Shades of Destiny
by RLD Flame-point Callie-co
Summary: Sequel to The Sorcerer's Bride: As Merlin and Arthur embark on their quest to unite Albion, the fulfillment of a deadly prophecy threatens to destroy everything they hold dear. Can they and their friends overcome their greatest challenge yet, or will they learn the hard way that no one can defy destiny?
1. Prologue: The Ward of Lord Agravaine

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, and after seeing how it ended I'm glad it wasn't my creation.**

 **Warnings: everything worth warning you about was pretty much covered at the end of TSB, and there'll be a few lighter chapters to enjoy before the trouble starts, so I'll save the warnings until they're necessary.**

 **Sorry this is so short; it's just a prologue, but I wanted to post something so you all could get your alerts set up. Future chapters will be longer.**

"Well, Agravaine, what do you have to report?"

As he looked into the deep blue eyes of the boy seated before him, Lord Agravaine tried to ignore the ripple of unease traveling up his spine. Only five years had passed since Morgause sacrificed herself to bring Mordred into the world, yet this was no child facing Agravaine across his carved mahogany desk; Morgause had insisted that they couldn't wait for Mordred to grow up naturally, that he needed to be ready to carry out their plans as soon as possible, so Agravaine and Kara, the druid girl who'd served as Mordred's nursemaid, had fed him potions that accelerated his growth. For every year of his life, he'd aged three, and now appeared to be around fifteen or sixteen years old. His powers had grown along with his body and, though Agravaine loathed admitting it even to himself, he was beginning to feel intimidated in his ward's presence.

"Things have gone on much the same as they have for the past five years, my lord. Uther still clings to life, though the last vestiges of his strength are waning; I believe we will be rid of him before another season has passed, so we must be ready to strike immediately once he is gone. We must destabilize Arthur's reign before it begins."

"Why haven't you done that already? What have you been doing during the five years you've sat at the prince's side?" Mordred snapped.

"My lord, I have worked tirelessly to ingratiate myself with Camelot's upper echelon," Agravaine protested, stung by the implicit rebuke for not having done enough. "I am now Arthur's most trusted advisor, while the other lords, who have always respected my house for our long and prosperous stewardship of the kingdom's lands, know they can rely on me to guide our hotheaded young regent, to temper his youthful impetuosity with age and wisdom. The problem is that Arthur has proved less hotheaded and impetuous than your mother and I anticipated. At present, all his authority is borrowed from his father, and he has shown great respect for that fact; he has recently begun showing a bit more leniency to those caught practicing magic, but aside from that he runs the kingdom much as Uther did, showing the nobles he can maintain order, and he still acts as if he believes the king might recover at any time so no one can accuse him of being eager to ascend to the throne before Uther's body is cold."

"Hmm. It seems strange to think my mother, who I've been told was a very insightful woman, could have misjudged him so. Are you sure he takes advice from no one else?"

"He is close to the court physician, Gaius, an inconveniently shrewd man. I suppose the physician might be advising him. Fortunately, Gaius is also an old man, and old men frequently suffer accidents. Shall I arrange one?"

Mordred considered it. "Not yet, but watch him, and anyone else close to Arthur. Now tell me about Merlin and Morgana."

"I have little to report on that score, my lord," Agravaine said apologetically. "They still live in Dagon under King Balinor's rule and by all accounts are very happy together."

"Are they?" Mordred leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with intense interest. "Do they love each other?"

"I believe so; everyone says they do, and I saw nothing to indicate otherwise when they visited Camelot and I had a chance to observe them. But that was three years ago, and I haven't seen them since. If I may ask, my lord, why do you always inquire about them? Why do you fixate on them so?"

Mordred looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing dangerously at Agravaine's audacity in questioning him. "Morgana crippled my mother, weakening her so much that she died giving birth to me," he hissed. "She must pay! As for Merlin…" His feelings toward that man were much more complicated, harder to put into words. He knew the warlock wasn't his father in any traditional sense, but they shared blood nonetheless, and with Morgause gone, Merlin was the closest thing to family he had left; he refused to consider his aunt Morgana as such after her betrayal, and the Pendragons were unworthy of being acknowledged as any relation of his simply because there was no magic in their inferior bloodline, even without taking Uther's crimes into account.

After a moment, Agravaine cleared his throat to bring the boy out of the contemplative silence he had lapsed into. "My lord, would you care to discuss putting our plans for the rest of Albion into motion? Current conditions appear favorable-"

"Yes, I will give the matter my full attention…in time. There is something I must do first."

"Oh?"

Mordred stood up and paced between the table and fireplace. "I've spent all my life in this castle, hidden away from everyone except you and Kara, but now I'm finally old enough that I no longer require your protection, and I want to see more of the world. It's time I met Merlin."

 **Hope you enjoyed the introduction to Mordred; I think it's going to be lots of fun exploring his psyche.**


	2. The Coming of Mordred

Morgana, princess of Dagon, glanced up from her book at the sound of someone tapping on her bedroom door. "Come in," she called, trying not to sound impatient. "How often must I tell you that you needn't knock every time?"

"Sorry, my lady," the auburn-haired girl said nervously - which, to be honest, was how she sounded most of the time.

It had only been three days since Freya left Morgana's service, and she hadn't quite warmed up to Freya's replacement, Sefa, yet. There was nothing to be done, though; Morgana was stuck with the timid little mouse, all because Gwaine's third cousin had died last year. Gwaine, it turned out, was not a commoner as everyone had assumed, but a member of a minor noble family, and his cousin's death had left him as the last heir to their small fiefdom. He hadn't been thrilled at being tracked down and told of his inheritance, as he'd wanted nothing to do with his family since they turned their backs on his mother after his father's death, leaving her to beg for assistance from a king who proved equally indifferent to her plight, but he'd nevertheless fulfilled his new responsibilities - at least as far as visiting his new holdings to take ownership and appointing competent, trustworthy people to run things. He had, however, refused to go live there and leave his friends behind.

Everyone was happy that he stayed, but there had been some confusion over what to do with him, since it was hardly appropriate for him to work in the stables now that they knew him to be of noble blood. Balinor eventually solved the problem by making him a knight; though the king had some reservations about this, Merlin had assured him Gwaine was at heart a man of good character, and there was no denying that his behavior had improved remarkably since he began courting Freya. His change in status meant Morgana had to find a new maid when Freya finally agreed to marry him, because having the wife of a knight doing laundry and scrubbing floors was just as bad as having a nobleman shovel horse manure...

…Which was how Sefa came to be standing in front of Morgana's favorite reading spot, wringing her hands over interrupting her mistress' leisure time. "Is there something I can help you with, Sefa?" the princess asked with exaggerated patience.

"Th-there's a man here to see you, my lady."

"Yes, that happens occasionally - one of the drawbacks of being a future queen is that there's no shortage of people who want something from you, mostly nobles seeking help in moving their tedious petitions up the king's list of priorities." It was quite a change from the days when she had merely been Uther's ward, when her main function was to act as a decoration for his throne room and she was left to do as she pleased the rest of the time, but she was used to it by now. She stuck a ribbon in her book to mark her place and stood up. "Is there something amiss with this particular visitor? You seem…agitated." _Even more so than usual._

Flinching as if expecting to be slapped for her next words, Sefa blurted out, "His name is Prince Mordred…and he claims to be your nephew."

Morgana's first thought was that that was impossible, because she would certainly have heard if Arthur had had any children - since he and Gwen hadn't been able to marry yet, with Uther officially still king, such an announcement would have been followed by Dagon's lady knight riding to Camelot to box his ears - but then she remembered something she'd tried her best to forget over the past five years: she had another sibling, one who definitely could have had a child without her knowing about it. Fighting to maintain her outward calm in spite of the ice that had just flooded her insides, she said, "Well then, I guess I had better meet with this Prince Mordred. Take me to him."

###

Sefa showed Morgana to the small room off the main entrance hall where Mordred awaited her, then retreated. She was leaning against the wall, head down, trying to get her frayed nerves under control, when she heard footsteps approaching and quickly straightened up, but it was only Will. "Hi there, Sefa. You all right?"

She gave him a hesitant smile; since their master and mistress were married, Will and Sefa often worked closely, and she liked him. He wasn't put off by her shyness since he was outgoing enough for both of them, and she admired his tendency to say whatever was on his mind with no regard for the consequences - whereas others found such impertinence unbecoming in a servant, she thought he was refreshingly honest and wished she could be that bold.

"Is her highness running you off your feet? You look rattled."

"Oh, not really. Princess Morgana isn't terribly demanding; there's just a lot of extra work to do, with the wedding tomorrow," Sefa murmured, not wanting to say that it was Mordred who had rattled her.

"I know what you mean - the sooner this damn thing's over with, the better," Will grumbled. "At least Gwaine and Freya aren't royalty, so there's not as much fuss as when Merlin married Morgana; there were so many tournaments, festivals, and feasts before we got to the wedding itself that I didn't even get to eat sitting down all week, and at night I dreamed about the chores I had to do the next day."

"That does sound taxing."

"It was awful, but this won't be nearly as bad. We just have to make it through one feast tomorrow night - we'll probably be able to snag some of the good stuff for ourselves too, since our prince and princess don't stuff their faces like some of the fat pigs at court - and then everything will go back to normal." He gave her a friendly slap on the back and moseyed off, whistling.

Sefa didn't say anything, but she had a feeling Will was wrong - with Mordred here, things might never be normal again.

###

Mordred was staring out of a tall, narrow window, watching the people bustling around the courtyard with great interest - growing up in isolation, he'd spent a lot of time observing people through windows, but the idea that he could go outside and join them if he wanted was a novel experience - when Morgana arrived. He spun around when her rather imperious clearing of her throat alerted him to her presence and gave a somewhat awkward bow. "Your highness."

Morgana surveyed him through slightly narrowed eyes, taking in his slight build, wavy dark brown hair, and his eyes, which he had colored brown with a minor glamor; realizing that the true story of his birth wouldn't go over well, he had decided to present himself as the son of Morgause's husband Cenred, so he thought it was best if he appeared dark-eyed, like both of his supposed parents. She let him squirm under her scrutiny for a moment before speaking. "So, Prince Mordred, I'm told you requested this audience because you claim we are kin."

"Yes, my lady. I am the son of King Cenred and Queen Morgause of Escetia, who I've learned was your half-sister."

"Escetia did not maintain close ties with neighboring kingdoms, but it was never so isolated that other monarchs were unaware of who sat on its throne. With your father dead, you are king, yet your name is unknown to me."

"Alas, I was a sickly child, so my parents kept me shut away from the world; I'm not surprised no one outside our kingdom knows of my existence. Luckily, my health has improved, but because of my childhood weakness I was unable to command the lords' loyalty after my parents' deaths and claim the throne that is rightfully mine. I do have this, though." He produced the Escetian royal seal and handed it over for her inspection. "My mother gave it to me on her deathbed." That was mostly true, except that Morgause had actually given it to Agravaine for safekeeping until Mordred was old enough to have it.

Morgana examined the seal carefully before returning it. "It's certainly authentic, and I do see something of Morgause in your face. Have you come here seeking military backing from Dagon to take back what is yours, then?"

Mordred bowed his head. "If your king might see fit to aid me in that, I would be grateful…however, that is not the only reason I'm here." He looked up again, meeting her gaze squarely. "I've led a lonely life, my lady, and you are the only family I have left-"

"No, I'm not. Your mother had another half-sibling."

"Arthur Pendragon. Yes, I'm sure he would welcome me in Camelot, where magic is still outlawed and the majority of the people would fear and hate me for inheriting my mother's gifts."

"And what made you think I would welcome you here?" Morgana hissed. "Lady Vivienne may have given birth to both Morgause and myself, but she did not treat me as a sister should, so I never considered her as such."

"I understand, of course, and I'm sorry if my visit has caused you distress. I only came because your reputation for being just and merciful, even to those who have wronged you, gave me hope that you would look past my mother's sins, which I had no part in, and see me for who I am."

That gave her pause. Her instincts had told her to beware of Mordred from the moment she heard who he was, but if she examined the matter logically, she supposed there was no reason to distrust the boy apart from his relation to her wicked sister, which wasn't his fault. "You're right," she said after a second's hesitation, "it isn't fair of me to attach any blame for your mother's crimes to you. You may stay here if you like, and I will arrange an introduction to the king, though I can't promise he will help you press your claim to Escetia's throne."

"Thank you very much, my lady. And your husband? I've heard so much about the great Emrys that I'm very eager to meet him as well."

"Oh yes, you'll meet him too, of course."

###

Balinor's and Merlin's reactions to Mordred were more or less the same as Morgana's; both were extremely surprised to learn that Morgause had a son - as Merlin said, she hadn't seemed at all like the maternal type - and more than a little wary, but ultimately they agreed Mordred should be given the chance to prove himself before they passed judgment on him.

 _Are you sure you want him here, though?_ Merlin asked his wife over lunch. _You argued in favor of letting him stay, but I notice you don't seem entirely comfortable with him._

Morgana glanced at the other end of the table, where Mordred sat. _He stirred up memories I'd rather not have revisited, that's all. I can find no obvious reason not to trust him._

 _There's no obvious reason why we_ should _trust him either, even though he doesn't act at all like Morgause. I think we need to spend some time getting to know him._ "Mordred," Merlin said aloud, "I'm going for a ride this afternoon. Do you want to join me, or have you spent enough time in the saddle lately?"

This was more than Mordred had dared to hope for; his foremost reason for being here was to meet Merlin but, knowing there must be dozens of people clamoring for the future king's time and attention, he hadn't been sure how many chances he would get for any meaningful interaction with the man. "I traveled very little on horseback, my lord," he replied, containing his glee, "so I would be pleased to accompany you…and Princess Morgana, of course."

Truthfully, he wished she would stay behind; her initially cold reception had done a lot to confirm the negative impression of her he'd formed based on the letters Morgause had left for her son to read after she was gone, in which she'd dwelled obsessively on how her sister had betrayed her by siding with the vile Pendragons over her own flesh and blood, but he knew it would be unwise to show any outward sign of resentment toward her.

"I can't come," Morgana said regretfully. "I'll be otherwise engaged."

"Magic lessons," Merlin added by way of explanation.

"Oh. I've heard that her magic took an uncommonly long time to manifest, but I would've thought she'd have mastered it by now."

Morgana's eyes narrowed; although Mordred sounded as polite as ever, his words almost seemed like a suggestion that she was slow in some way.

Before she could correct him, Balinor spoke up. "These aren't just any lessons; Nimueh's training her to be the next High Priestess," he said proudly.

"Oh," Mordred repeated. He kept his expression neutral, so no one could tell what he thought of that.

###

"Well, Mordred, what do you think of our city?" Merlin asked. The two sorcerers were riding down the main road that led from the castle's gates through the town below; from this vantage point, they had a breathtaking view of the capital spread out before them, and the shining palace at their backs. It was a far cry from Agravaine's secluded keep, and even more different from the forbidding black spires of the Escetian fortresses he had seen when he used scrying pools to catch a glimpse of his mother's kingdom.

"It's a beautiful place, my lord. The people are very…hospitable." Nearly everyone they saw in the streets had waved at them, and some had even come up to talk with Merlin, greeting him almost as if he were a friend rather than their future king. Agravaine would never allow commoners to act so familiar with him, but Merlin didn't seem to mind. Mordred didn't know what to make of it.

Merlin smiled at his perplexed expression. "Yes, they're good people, and I was taught early on how important it is to maintain relations with them, to understand their needs and concerns." His smile suddenly slipped away. "I don't imagine you were raised with the same philosophy."

"No, I wasn't," Mordred answered honestly. "I was always told that those of lower birth exist only to serve their betters."

Merlin nodded understandingly. "That sounds like Morgause, and you probably never had any opportunities to meet your subjects and learn that the only difference between them and us is that our ancestors managed to get their hands on more gold than theirs did. But people can change, Mordred - there are some in Dagon who won't accept you, who will even hate you because of who your parents were, but I want you to know that I believe there is good in you."

"Thank you, my lord."

"You don't have to call me that; friends shouldn't be so formal with each other."

"Friends?" the younger man repeated uncertainly. "I never had one of those before."

"Well, if you'll let me, I'd like to be your friend." He would have to be, if he was to have any chance of undoing whatever corruptive teachings Morgause had filled Mordred's head with.

"I would be honored, my l- I mean Merlin." Mordred was ecstatic; from the moment he first laid eyes on Merlin, he had sensed the same powerful magic in him that Morgause's letters had described, and was happier than ever that he shared Merlin's blood instead of that weak, sniveling fool Cenred's. Merlin was someone any young sorcerer would be thrilled to call his father…except Mordred couldn't call him that, at least not out loud. Still, a small part of him - the single idealistic part that had somehow survived his strict upbringing under people determined to indoctrinate him regarding his destiny - had always dreamed that if they ever met, Merlin would somehow know they were connected, that he would figure it out and welcome Mordred as his son, and it seemed to be happening - they were already closer than Mordred's more practical side had predicted they would ever be.

They left the city for a gallop in the surrounding countryside, then rode back into town on a different road. On their way through the lower town, they passed a peasant's house where a little girl sat out front, crying. Merlin stopped his horse and got down to investigate, and Mordred followed, figuring this must be more of that 'maintaining relations with the people' thing Merlin told him about earlier.

The girl scrambled to her feet as they approached, curtseying clumsily and trying to wipe away her tears, though she mostly just succeeded in rubbing dirt on her face. "S-sir."

"What's your name?" Merlin asked her.

"Rhea, sir."

"Why were you crying, Rhea?"

She held up a filthy, nearly decapitated ragdoll, its head attached only by a tiny scrap of threadbare cloth. "I was fighting with my brother, and he tore my dolly and threw her in the mud! If my friend Nora was here, maybe she could fix her with magic, but she's at the market, and anyway she can't do much yet. She's only five."

"Mind if I take a look?" Rhea reluctantly handed over her doll, and Merlin cast a simple spell to clean it and reattach its head. "Here you go, good as new."

Rhea's grubby face broke into a brilliant smile as she threw her arms around Merlin's neck. "Thanks, sir! My brother'll sure be sorry when he hears how a real live prince fixed my dolly!"

Merlin watched, smiling, as she skipped back into her house, then turned around to find Mordred staring at him in shock. "What?"

"Why did you use your magic for something as trivial as mending a child's toy?"

"It's probably the only toy that girl has."

"But it's a waste of power like ours!"

Merlin sighed. "No, it wasn't - you saw how happy it made her. If helping others isn't reward enough for you on its own, consider this: we depend on commoners - like Rhea's parents, and Rhea herself when she's older - to help keep the kingdom running by farming the land, building things, and so on. Now, who do you think those people will be more loyal to, a king who serves them, or one who sits in his castle all day and acts like their troubles are beneath his notice?"

"I never thought of it that way before."

Merlin smiled reassuringly and gave Mordred a friendly pat on the back. "That's all right; what matters is that you're willing to try to see other viewpoints when you get the chance. Now, let's go home." Dusk was falling, their horses had had enough exercise for one day, and Merlin thought he'd made a good start on turning his nephew into a man of the people, which was more than he'd planned on accomplishing today when he got up that morning.

When they returned to the palace, however, Merlin discovered that there was one more surprise in store for him before the day ended; the courtyard was full of horses, wagons loaded with baggage, an army of busy servants, and…knights of Camelot? Merlin jumped off his horse and made his way toward the sandy brown curls he recognized as belonging to Sir Leon, Camelot's bravest and most honorable knight, second only to Arthur himself among their ranks. "Sir Leon! Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"We're here for Sir Gwaine's wedding, of course, sire. It was Prince Arthur's idea to arrive unannounced, although he was afraid Morgana's visions might ruin the surprise."

"No, I'm very surprised," Merlin assured him. "Has Arthur gone inside?" Leon nodded. "Then I'd better go see him." He started to walk off, then turned back when he remembered that Mordred was still there. "Come on, Mordred; I'll introduce you to your uncle, Arthur Pendragon."

They went inside the palace, and Merlin, excited at the prospect of seeing his best friend in person again, never noticed how Mordred's expression darkened at the mention of Arthur's name.

 **Yay, Arthur's back! Unfortunately, him being here means Agravaine's in charge of Camelot… Wonder if it'll still be standing when Arthur goes home? Of course, I'm very interested in your thoughts on Mordred's introduction to the main cast as well.**

 **On a non-story-related note, I've been accepted into graduate school and will begin classes at the end of August.**


	3. The Return of Arthur

**Sorry for the long wait; as some of you may know, I started grad school this year and it turned out to be a lot more intense than college. However, I'd like to assure all of you that I haven't abandoned this story. I don't know how long it'll take to finish it, but we will get there eventually.**

Merlin and Mordred found Arthur in the grand entrance hall, where he was speaking with Balinor while Morgana, a few courtiers and knights of Dagon, and a pretty blonde girl stood in attendance (Gwaine and Freya were conspicuously absent; not knowing they would need to be on hand to greet wedding guests, they had left for a romantic stroll in the gardens, and Gwen had gone to bring them back).

"-Really can't thank you enough for accommodating us on such short notice…"

"Nonsense," Balinor replied with his usual good-hearted gruffness. "You know you're always welcome here." He turned to the blonde at Arthur's side. "It's good to see you again too, Princess Elena."

Elena smiled and curtsied gracefully. "Thank you, your majesty. And you, Morgana, for inviting me, and for letting me know Arthur planned to attend too; persuading Father to let me go was much easier when I told him I would have the knights of Camelot with me as well as our own guards."

"I'm glad I could help," Morgana said with a smile. "I really wanted you to be here."

"You knew I was coming?" Arthur looked crestfallen. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Of course I knew – I wouldn't be much of a seer if I didn't. But you did surprise Merlin; I kept my vision to myself, and he never suspected a thing."

"Oh, good. So where is your scoundrel of a husband? Run off to the tavern again, has he?"

"No, Arthur, I'm right here."

Balinor chuckled and walked away, leaving Merlin and Morgana to catch up with their friends. With the formal greetings over, most of the other spectators also dispersed.

Arthur, who hadn't noticed Merlin sneaking up on him, jumped and then immediately tried to cover his startled reaction. "Nice of you to join us."

"I would've been here if I'd known you were coming."

"Merlin," Morgana interjected before he and Arthur could fall into the lighthearted bickering that frequently seemed to define their friendship, "don't you think we had better introduce Arthur to our guest?"

Merlin's smile disappeared as he remembered Mordred; this was going to be awkward. "Yes, I guess we should." He looked around and spotted Mordred skulking in the background, half-hidden behind a short pillar that held a marble vase with a flowering plant (one of the many small changes Morgana had made when she decided to brighten up the palace decor) spilling out of it. "Mordred, come over here."

Mordred obeyed, although he didn't seem overly pleased about it, and Arthur's eyes widened as he examined the young man's face. There was something strangely familiar about him... "Who-?"

"This is Mordred, our nephew," Morgana replied softly.

"Our nephew? You mean...Morgause?" Arthur choked out.

"Yes, it seems our sister had a son no one knew about."

A long moment of uncomfortable silence passed - at least it was uncomfortable for Morgana, Arthur, Mordred, and Merlin; Elena was just confused - before Arthur forced himself to speak. "Well, Mordred, I-"

He was interrupted by Gwen calling out, "I found them!" as she rushed into the hall with Gwaine and Freya at her heels.

Arthur turned around at the sound of her voice, and when their eyes met he forgot all about Mordred. It hadn't been that long since he'd seen her, of course, but speaking to each other through enchanted crystals couldn't compare to actually being in her presence. "Guinevere..."

She stopped short, grateful that her dark skin mostly hid the blush she felt spreading over her face. "Prince Arthur." He took a step in her direction, and she glanced pointedly around, reminding him that they were in a public area and had to act accordingly. "I brought Gwaine and Freya."

"Oh, right." Arthur gave his head a slight shake, reminding himself that, officially, he was there to attend a wedding, so he ought to offer his congratulations to the bride and groom. Reluctantly turning away from Gwen, he shook hands with Gwaine. "You're a lucky man, Sir Gwaine. I couldn't believe it when I heard you were getting married."

"And I couldn't believe it when you and Elena showed up. I thought Morgana would be the only princess on the guest list, and now there're three."

Arthur grimaced as he recalled Gwaine's nickname for him during his first visit to Dagon, but his attempt at a witty comeback was drowned out by admiring exclamations from the women as Freya opened Elena's wedding gift, an amethyst necklace. A servant brought in her gift to Gwaine, a saddle crafted of finely tooled leather, and then it was Arthur's turn.

"My gift goes along with Elena's, but it wouldn't be appropriate to bring it into the hall, so if you'll follow me..." He led everyone back outside and gestured down the steps leading into the courtyard, where one of the knights was holding the reins of a blue roan stallion. "He comes from an excellent bloodline, and his coat is such an interesting color that I couldn't resist buying him; with a bit more training, I believe he'll make a fine warhorse."

Gwaine thanked him profusely, although he slipped up and called Arthur 'princess' again. Arthur rolled his eyes and turned to Freya. "I would've given you a horse too, but Guinevere and Morgana thought you'd like this better." Reaching into a pouch on his belt, he produced a small, carved wooden box which contained a bracelet made of gold and silver wire woven into intricate designs.

"It's beautiful! Thank you!"

"I'm glad you like it." Leaning in closer, Arthur muttered, "Are you sure about this? It's not too late to change your mind, you know."

"Hey," Gwaine said plaintively, "why do people keep trying to talk my fiancée into leaving me?"

"Maybe because you keep insulting them," Arthur suggested. "Who else did you manage to annoy that much?"

"Morgana," Freya told him. "When she heard I'd said yes to Gwaine, she asked if I'd taken a blow to the head recently. The king seemed pleased, though."

"Why shouldn't he be pleased, when you're such a good influence on Gwaine that Balinor doesn't have to put him in the stocks every other week?" Morgana asked rhetorically. "I would have thought I could count on my husband to take my side, though."

"That isn't fair," Merlin protested as his wife mock-glared at him. "I didn't take anyone's side, I only said Freya could make up her own mind if she wanted to marry Gwaine or not."

"Thank you, Merlin," Freya said in a rather dry tone. "I'm happy that _someone_ respects my decision."

"I have the utmost respect for you," Morgana assured her. "I only wanted to be sure this decision wasn't one you would regret."

"I'm sure; after five years, I have complete faith that Gwaine's left his former bad habits behind. Well, most of them anyway."

Gwen and Elena agreed that Freya had been smart to make sure Gwaine could toe the line before accepting his proposal, and they all headed off to a private dining hall for dinner. Along the way, Merlin noticed that Mordred had disappeared. He wondered briefly where the boy had gone, but before he could suggest that they stop and look for him, Arthur distracted him with the most recent news on the state of affairs in Camelot.

###

Slipping away the instant Gwen, Freya, and Gwaine arrived to provide a diversion, Mordred went outside and climbed the stairs leading to the walkway at the top of the castle walls. There were only a few guards up there, so it was a perfect place for him to be alone and think. He had just met Arthur Pendragon, the man Agravaine had always said was his worst enemy, the biggest obstacle in his path to claiming his birthright. More than that, according to Morgause's letters Arthur was practically the embodiment of evil - or at least Uther was, and Arthur was at best a weak-willed sycophant, so desperate for his father's approval that he mindlessly perpetuated the persecution of those with magic regardless of the fact that they had never done him any harm, that he in fact owed his very life to magic...

He wasn't at all what Mordred had expected. Granted, he and Arthur hadn't had a chance to actually speak to one another, so all Mordred had to go on was a first impression, but he couldn't help noticing how Arthur had conducted himself with Merlin, Morgana, and Balinor; they all had some form of magic, yet he seemed totally at ease with them. He clearly had great respect for the king, he had bantered about Morgana's visions as if her being a seer didn't matter one whit to him, and it was plain after watching them together that he and Merlin were the best of friends.

A slight frown crossed Mordred's face as he thought about how close Merlin and Arthur were; he had quite enjoyed having Merlin's full attention all afternoon, and didn't like how easily he had been pushed aside when Arthur arrived. Also, Arthur hadn't been any warmer toward him than Morgana, and even though Merlin had been friendly today, Mordred wondered how long that would last in the face of his best friend's and wife's obvious disapproval.

The young sorcerer climbed down from the battlement he had been perched on, his face hardening into a resolute expression. Merlin was not only a great sorcerer and the closest thing he had to a father, he was also the first and only person who had offered Mordred genuine friendship, who seemed to care more about _him_ than his destiny to end the Pendragons' oppressive reign and liberate his kind. Mordred wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him.

 **So, this was a little shorter than usual; I wanted to make it longer, but if I had it would've taken another 3000 words or so to get to another good ending place, which would've prolonged the wait, so I decided to go ahead and post this.**


	4. Lovers Reunited

**I'd hoped to cover Gwaine and Freya's wedding in this chapter, but it was getting too long, so I had to cut it off. What I ended up with is a chapter almost entirely devoted to the beta couples, although there's some Mergana too - and of course our favorite creepy kid makes an appearance.**

"May I walk with you?"

Elena blinked in surprise. When everyone went their separate ways after dinner, she'd expected Gwen to seize the opportunity to slip away with Arthur and didn't know why the female knight had sought out her company instead. "Certainly. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I couldn't help noticing that you seemed a bit preoccupied during dinner, like you had something other than tomorrow's festivities on your mind - or some _one_. A certain knight, perhaps?"

"Was I really that obvious?" Elena asked sheepishly, suddenly feeling like the awkward, clumsy girl she used to be - which, she had learned from her correspondence with Lancelot over the last five years, was because she had been possessed by a sidhe for most of her life - instead of the graceful and refined (though still more adventurous than was entirely proper) princess she became after Merlin freed her.

Gwen smiled kindly at her. "My closest friend is a seer, and she shares most of her visions with me."

"So that's why Morgana invited me? She knew my intentions?" At Gwen's nod, Elena asked, "And did she tell _him_? Is that why I haven't seen him, because he's avoiding me?"

"Of course not; the king sent some knights out to sweep the forests for bandits - he does that every few months, you know, and he decided now was a good time for it since the outlaws will expect us to be celebrating our comrade's wedding, not hunting for them - and Lancelot volunteered. He should be back tonight, though, so there'll be plenty of time for you to speak with him. Morgana and I both wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you, Gwen."

"Thank _you_ , princess. I'm glad Lancelot has found someone who can give him the love he deserves." Gwen watched happily as Elena set off to find her knight, until a sudden awareness of someone stealthily approaching her from behind interrupted her reverie. She glanced over her shoulder, her smile widening when she saw Arthur there. "Surely you didn't think you could sneak up on a knight of Dagon, sire?"

"Just checking," he replied with a playful grin, which grew more serious as he came closer. "I've missed you, Guinevere. These past years have been hard, only seeing your face in a crystal, never being able to touch you…" He reached out to caress her cheek, hardly able to believe that after being deprived of physical contact for so long, she was finally standing here before him, in the flesh.

"It's been hard for me too. I know Merlin and Morgana were trying to help when they gave us those crystals, but sometimes I think it's worse that way, seeing you and talking to you when we're still so far apart. Then I think of what it would be like if we couldn't speak at all, if all we had were letters, and I'm so grateful for what we do have."

Arthur nodded his agreement. "Still, there've been days – usually when the lords are being especially ornery – when it was all I could do not to ask you to come back to Camelot and marry me tomorrow."

Gwen gave him a sympathetic half-smile; as much as she had missed Arthur, at least she had her friends. Arthur was alone in Camelot except for Leon and Gaius, and his uncle, though Gwen wasn't terribly fond of Lord Agravaine. She wished she could be there with him, but she reminded herself that there was a good reason for their separation. "If you think the lords are being stubborn about the changes you're trying to make, having me at your side would only make them dig their heels in more."

"You're right," Arthur sighed. "I doubt I'll be able to make them accept us until I'm king…but they're hundreds of miles away right now, so let's not waste any more time talking about them. We only have a few days together, and I want to make the most of them." Drawing her close, he kissed her like he was desperate to get his fill of her before they were forced to part again, even though he knew that was impossible. Even if their hopes came to fruition and they eventually married, and he could kiss her as often as he wanted, he would still never get enough.

They were both breathing hard when she finally pulled away. "As much as I want to, we can't do this in the middle of a corridor. Come with me – I know places where we won't be disturbed."

Taking him by the hand, she led him into one of the many secret passages Merlin had shown her; then she kissed him, for once not worrying that they would be seen, and tried her best to forget that he was prince regent of one of Albion's most powerful kingdoms and she was a blacksmith's daughter. For now, they were just Arthur and Gwen, equals in every way.

###

Returning to the castle at the hour when most people were finishing their evening meal, Lancelot took it upon himself to get the knights' horses settled in their stalls; he didn't want to go inside just yet, and this gave him an excuse to be alone a little while longer. He had hoped their mission would keep them in the outlying villages for another day or two, but the other members of his patrol had been even more efficient than usual. He couldn't blame them for wanting to hurry back – after all, most people enjoyed weddings, and it wasn't fair that they should miss all the fun just because he wasn't in a celebratory mood.

"Lancelot?"

He looked up at the sound of a woman's voice calling his name, and promptly dropped the currycomb he'd been using. Elena stood outside his horse's stall, looking even lovelier than he remembered in a blue silk gown accented with white lace at the neckline and sleeves, her golden hair shining in the moonlight. "Princess? What… What brings you here?"

"I came for the wedding, of course. Morgana invited me personally."

"That sounds like the sort of scheme she'd cook up," Lancelot said wryly. "I'm surprised you accepted her invitation, though."

"Well, what was I supposed to do when you stopped answering my letters?" Elena demanded, giving him a wounded look.

Lancelot sighed. "I'm sorry, princess, that was most discourteous of me. I never meant to hurt you, but what else could I have done? Circumstances have changed, and our friendship-"

"Friendship? I was under the impression that what we had was something more than _friendship_ , Lancelot! Or is that all it ever was to you?" she asked in a much smaller voice.

"It doesn't matter what my feelings may have been. Your father has decreed that it's time for you to marry, and I doubt your future husband will approve of you being on such intimate terms with another man." Even if Elena's hypothetical bridegroom-to-be wouldn't mind, Lancelot didn't think he could bear hearing about her life as a married woman, as she learned to love the man her father chose for her and gradually forgot whatever feelings she might have had for him.

"You're right, no man wants a wife who has feelings for someone else." She struck a thoughtful pose, leaning on the waist-high partition that formed the front wall of the stalls with her chin in her hand, and appeared to ponder the problem. "Guess I'll just have to marry you, then."

"Be serious, please," Lancelot scoffed, trying to ignore the way his heart skipped when she said that.

"I'm perfectly serious," she assured him, and Lancelot believed her; she certainly sounded sincere.

He wished she wasn't - he didn't want to see her hopes crushed, and knowing that she truly loved him, that she really would marry him if she could, only made the pain of losing her worse. "Your father would never approve. I'm a commoner, princess, and while King Balinor may have been willing to overlook that, Lord Godwyn is hardly going to think I'm a fit husband for his daughter just because I can swing a sword!"

"You are more than just some commoner who can swing a sword!" Elena snapped. "You are a brave man who survived the destruction of your home and raised yourself up from nothing! Now you lead Dagon's army and are a close friend of its future king, and of Arthur as well. My father appreciates the value of connections like yours; more importantly, he wants me to be happy, and he knows no one makes me happier than you do."

"Do you mean," Lancelot said slowly, hardly daring to believe they were actually treating this as a real possibility, "there's really a chance-? But surely Lord Godwyn has already promised you to some prince?"

"It's true that Father and King Uther once considered a match between me and Arthur, but before we set out for Dagon Arthur explained to Father that he intends to marry someone else, and that it would only strengthen our alliance with Camelot if I married a man he holds in such high regard - especially one with such a prominent position in a kingdom that's already united with Camelot through Merlin and Morgana's marriage. After that, Father said I could marry you with his blessing - provided that you and King Balinor agree, of course."

She looked expectantly at him, but he was still struggling to process what he'd just heard. Over the past five years, he had slowly fallen for her while fighting his feelings every step of the way, knowing as surely as he knew his own name that they could never be together, that he would never be worthy of her; then, when he got the news that her father had decided he couldn't put off making a suitable match for his only daughter any longer, he immediately began the painful process of mentally detaching himself from her, cutting off all communication with her and thinking of her only in formal terms instead of the more familiar forms of address she had encouraged him to use, resigning himself, yet again, to losing the woman he loved. After all the times he had told himself that this was the way of the world, that there could be no other ending in store for them, this sudden reversal of his fortune was almost more than he could comprehend.

Finally, he managed to stammer out, "I- I don't know what to say, princess."

"Say yes. Be my husband and my king. And no more of this 'princess' business," she ordered with a playful toss of her head. "That's no way to talk to your fiancée, is it, Sir Lancelot?"

"No - I mean yes. Of course my answer is yes, Elena..." He hesitated for the briefest of seconds before adding the one epithet he had never dared apply to her before, even in his head. "...My love."

That was all she needed to hear. Reaching over the half-door of his horse's stall, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down so she could kiss him at last. That was the moment that truly convinced Lancelot he wasn't dreaming, because this was better than anything he could have imagined (not that he'd ever let himself imagine kissing Elena in the first place). It was even better than the handful of kisses he'd shared with Gwen, who had always been rather hesitant and reserved, as if her heart wasn't really in it. Elena didn't hesitate at all as she twined her fingers in his hair and eagerly molded her lips to his, leaving no doubt in his mind that this was exactly what she wanted.

"I'm glad that's settled," she said when they finally broke apart, once more acting like a prim and proper princess, as if she hadn't almost pulled him over the wooden barrier that stood between them a moment ago.

"Well, not quite. We still need to speak with the king about releasing me from his service."

Elena smiled delightedly - he didn't seem nearly as upset about giving up his treasured position as Dagon's head knight as she had expected, which she took as a sign that he must really love her - and leaned in for one more kiss. "Yes, but I suppose we should wait until the wedding's over. We wouldn't want to steal Gwaine and Freya's moment."

###

The next morning dawned clear and bright - perfect conditions, especially since Freya had decided to hold the ceremony outdoors instead of in the traditional setting, the great hall. She did, however, keep to the tradition of getting ready with the help of her friends, Gwen, Sefa, and Elena.

Morgana was supposed to join them too, but just as she was about to leave hers and Merlin's chambers, she got sidetracked when she saw what her husband was wearing. "Really, Merlin, out of everything in your wardrobe, you chose _that_?"

"What's wrong with my clothes? They're nicer than the ones I normally wear."

"Yes, but they're all black. We're going to a wedding, not a funeral."

"So? I like black, and it's easier to get dressed when everything's the same color."

Morgana just shook her head and started rummaging through the drawers where he kept his things in search of something more suitable. "Why don't you wear the plum-colored shirt I bought for you? And take off that scarf, it's a bit too casual."

"I don't want to wear that shirt," Merlin protested. "I look ridiculous in purple."

"Didn't I just say it's plum, not purple?" Morgana asked, exasperated. "Honestly, sometimes you're as bad as Will..." Her voice trailed off as his arms slipped around her waist, pulling her away from the wardrobe.

"Maybe, but you love me anyway."

Morgana let out a sigh that was as much vexation as pleasure when he started kissing her neck; she knew exactly what he was up to, since they both made frequent use of diversionary tactics like this during disagreements (and after five years of marriage, they'd had a few) whenever the topic under debate was trivial enough not to require serious discussion. She supposed the question of what Merlin wore fell into that category, but she wouldn't be put off so easily; she was not going to let him attend their friends' wedding dressed like the Grim Reaper. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy his attempts to distract her for a minute or two before setting him straight.

"Yes, I do," she said at length as she turned around to face him, gently extricating herself from his hold, "but I'll love you even more when you change your clothes."

"I'm not putting on that purple shirt," Merlin declared, folding his arms stubbornly over his chest. "Absolutely not. No way."

###

Twenty minutes later, the royal couple made their way downstairs to join the guests clustered near the palace's front entrance. Merlin's scarf was gone, and he was wearing his new shirt and a disgruntled expression; Morgana, on the other hand, looked quite pleased with herself, although her smile faltered when she spied Mordred skulking nearby, eyeing the brightly dressed crowd curiously. _What is he doing here?_

 _He's probably feeling left out. Why don't we invite him to join the party? I'm sure Gwaine and Freya won't mind._ His wife kept her face impassive, but the sudden downturn in her emotions told Merlin what she thought of that idea. _Come on, Morgana - I won't deny that he shares more of Morgause's views than I'd like, but I think there's still hope for him._

Morgana shook her head and took a few steps back. _Invite him if you wish; I'm sure he'll accept more readily if it comes from you. I don't think he likes me very much._

 _Morgana-_

 _I'm sorry, Merlin - I know I promised to give him a chance, but I'd like to enjoy the celebration, and I don't think I will if I have to spend it with him._ Cutting off their mental communication before he had a chance to say anything else, she went off to find Gwen.

 **Because this is only half of what I intended to write for this chapter, I'm going to get right to work on the second half instead of updating all my other stories first like I usually would. I still have six more weeks of school, though, and my professors seem to be doing their best to work me to death before I escape for the summer, so it might still be a while before I'm able to write the next installment. As always, your patience is appreciated.**

 **For those of you who like visual aids to go along with what you're reading, here's what Elena's blue dress looks like:**

 **.**

 **Also, last time I tried to including a link it was brought to my attention that you can't copy and paste stuff from stories, so for your convenience I will also post this on my profile, where you can copy it.**


	5. The Wedding of Sir Gwaine

**Okay, Fraine really do manage to tie the knot this time! Here's the link if you want to see what I imagined for Freya's wedding dress, or you can copy and paste it from my profile if you prefer:**

 **dimg dillards com/is/image/DillardsZoom/04386788_zi_white?$ecom880x1020$**

 **Warning: there's also a death at the end of the chapter. Don't worry, it's no one we're deeply attached to...yet.**

Gwen smiled when she caught sight of Morgana making her way through the crowd toward her, but her pleased expression turned to one of confusion when she saw that her former mistress was alone. "Morgana? Where's Merlin?"

"Oh, he's here somewhere, but never mind him. I decided I'd prefer your company today."

"That's very kind of you, but you don't have to stay with me just because Arthur and I can't be seen attending the ceremony together. Or you could tell Merlin to come over - I wouldn't mind."

"Later, perhaps. I believe Merlin's otherwise occupied at the moment."

Morgana's response didn't sound like a cause for concern in itself, but Gwen could tell by the sudden clenching of her jaw that there was something more going on. "Not wanting me to feel left out _is_ the only reason you didn't bring him with you, isn't it, Morgana? There isn't any trouble between you?"

"Gods no! It's just that Merlin saw Mordred skulking about and decided to invite him to join the celebration, and even though I know I'm supposed to be trying to like the boy, I have my limits... But I'd rather not speak of it right now."

Gwen thought perhaps the matter should be spoken of, because as much as Morgana tried to pretend otherwise, it was clear that Mordred's presence in the castle bothered her a great deal, and Gwen doubted any good could come of keeping her feelings bottled up. Still, she agreed that this wasn't the time or place for such a discussion, so she dutifully asked, "What would you like to talk about instead?"

"How about you and Arthur? I understand it was nearly three o'clock in the morning before he returned to the guest wing."

"How did you-? Did you use your Sight to spy on us?" Gwen demanded. She didn't think Morgana would do such a thing, but how else could she have known how late Arthur was out last night?

"Of course not; Merlin and I heard about it from Will, who heard it from another servant who saw Arthur and thought it was strange for him to be roaming the corridors at that hour, although I didn't get to find out if they knew he was with you since Will shut up when Sefa told him it isn't nice to gossip. Believe me, Gwen, the last thing I want is a vision of yours and Arthur's…intimate moments."

"It's not like there would've been much for you to see anyway," Gwen muttered, but Morgana quickly held up a hand to stop her.

"Please, I don't want to hear the details. Just tell me you remembered to drink the potion I gave you afterward." If Arthur and Gwen were going to have any chance of getting the nobles of Camelot to accept their relationship after he became king, her reputation had to be above reproach; they certainly couldn't afford to have a child before they were able to marry, so Morgana had brewed a potion for her friend that would prevent conception if she and Arthur got carried away while enjoying their reunion.

Gwen looked scandalized. "Morgana! I'll have you know there was no need for that – all Arthur and I did was talk!"

Morgana said nothing, just raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"All right, there was a fair amount of kissing too," Gwen admitted, "but nothing that required your potion."

"You always were the level-headed one."

Just then, a trumpet announced the king's arrival, and all conversation ceased as the guests followed Balinor outside to the carriages that would take them to the place where the wedding was to be held, although Gwaine and his friends opted to ride instead – he'd been surrounded by a never-ending parade of well-wishers since breakfast, so this was the first chance he'd had for a real conversation with any of them.

"I hope you don't mind that I invited Mordred along," Merlin said in an undertone meant for Gwaine's ears only as they mounted up and set off, having noticed Gwaine looking inquisitively at the boy. He didn't really think Gwaine would object to Mordred's presence – he was generally very easygoing, and today he was in such a good mood that he probably would have agreed to anything – but it was still bad form to invite an extra guest to someone else's wedding, even if they were your subjects.

"Of course not!" Gwaine replied in a much louder voice. "I was just surprised to see him by your side instead of our lovely princess. Where's Morgana?"

"She's with Gwen," Merlin answered diplomatically, allowing the others to draw the same conclusion Gwen herself had, that Morgana was accompanying Gwen to the wedding in Arthur's place rather than avoiding Mordred.

Arthur looked morose at the reminder that _he_ couldn't be with Gwen, but he quickly shook it off, realizing he should take advantage of the opportunity to start getting to know his nephew. "So, Mordred, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to speak with you last night. How do you like it here in Dagon?"

"I like it very much." Everyone looked at Mordred as if waiting for him to elaborate further, so he added, "The castle isn't as dreary as the one I grew up in, and I've enjoyed my time with Merlin."

The warlock's eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed how Mordred hadn't included anyone else in that statement. Maybe Morgana's suspicions that he didn't like her weren't entirely unfounded...

"And what was it like growing up in Escetia?" It wasn't exactly the question Arthur wanted to ask, but even he wasn't tactless enough to wonder out loud how Mordred had survived being raised by Morgause.

"Lonely. I spent most of my time studying magic."

"But surely you got to go out and have fun sometimes?"

Mordred shook his head and repeated his story about being too sickly to get outside much as a child.

"Well, we'll have to fix that," Arthur declared. "I'll see if I can find time to take you hunting before I leave, or you can come to Camelot. Our forests have the best selection of game in Albion."

"Is that your idea of fun?" Mordred couldn't keep a hint of surprise out of his voice, having imagined Arthur's hobbies to be more in the order of burning people alive and drowning children.

"Of course, and you'll learn to love it too; no nephew of mine is going to spend all his time reading dusty old books. That's for girls like Merlin."

Mordred frowned at that but, to his amazement, Merlin didn't seem to mind the insult; at least he didn't blast Arthur off his horse. Before Mordred could ask why Merlin tolerated such disrespect from a man without magic - allowing peasants to speak to him was strange enough, though at least they knew their place and were appropriately deferential - the others piped up with suggestions of other recreational activities he should be introduced to.

"I can teach you how to use a sword," Lancelot offered.

"And I can help you improve your horsemanship," Elena added. "You seem to be a decent rider already, but you could use a lighter hand on the reins...and I can show you how to race and jump over streams and logs..."

"And I can-" Gwaine began, but Arthur cut him off.

"That's all right, Gwaine, I don't think Mordred needs a tour of every tavern in the city."

Gwaine didn't get a chance to respond, because by then they had reached the lake, and the group split up - Arthur, Lancelot, and Elena joined the rest of the guests lined up along the shore, while Gwaine took his place at the front of the crowd, by the water's edge. Merlin and Mordred, meanwhile, put themselves in charge of setting up magical barriers to prevent the horses from wandering off.

"I hope my friends didn't put you off with all their talk about the things they think you need to learn," Merlin said once they were alone. "They might come on a bit too strong sometimes - especially Arthur and Gwaine - but they really do mean well."

"I suppose," Mordred said doubtfully. "Do you enjoy all that stuff too - swordfighting and hunting and such?"

"Not really," Merlin admitted. "Personally, I'd take a good book over weapons training any day."

Mordred seemed relieved to hear that.

Just then a carriage adorned with ribbons and flowers came into view, pulled by snow-white horses. "Here comes the bride - we'd better get down to the lake."

The two sorcerers slipped in among the audience just as the carriage stopped and Freya stepped out. With no father or guardian to escort her, she made her way to the shore alone, eyes lowered self-consciously as murmurs of admiration broke out all around her. When she reached Gwaine and took his hand, though, her shyness melted away, replaced with a glowing look of pure joy. They made a radiant pair - Gwaine's armor gleamed in the sun, while the tiny silver beads sewn onto Freya's lacy bodice and the wreath of white blooms crowning her lustrous black hair gave her a similar yet subtler shine.

The only one who wasn't completely enraptured by them was Nimueh; Merlin and Morgana had persuaded her to officiate the wedding as a special favor to their friends but, not being much of a romantic, she wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Binding their hands together, she went straight into the vows. "Gwaine, do you take this sorceress as your wife, knowing and accepting her gift and her duty to use it for the good of all, swearing to love and honor her as long as you live?"

"I do," Gwaine replied confidently, his eyes never leaving Freya, almost like she was a mirage that might vanish if he looked away even for a second. "Freya, there was a time when I couldn't imagine wanting more than the life I led before I came here, drifting from place to place, never staying anywhere - or with anyone - longer than a week, but I want you to know that all that changed when I met you - _I_ changed. You made me want to be a better man, and I thank the gods every day that you saw past the person I used to be and gave me a chance. I can't say I believe myself worthy of you, but I swear I'll spend the rest of my days trying to be."

Gwaine's speech was met with happy tears from Freya and applause from the guests, and even brought a small smile to Nimueh's otherwise solemn features. "Well said, Sir Gwaine. Now, if we may continue..."

"Of course, sorry for the interruption," Gwaine said, not sounding sorry at all. "Carry on, my lady."

"Freya, do you take this man as your husband, swearing to love and honor him as long as you live?"

Freya quickly wiped her face with her free hand before replying. "I do."

With the vows complete, Nimueh tied the final knot in their handfasting garland before speaking the final words to pronounce them husband and wife. "You are now one, bound by oath, by law, and by love. You may-"

Gwaine didn't wait for Nimueh's permission to kiss his bride, locking lips with Freya before Nimueh finished her sentence and refusing to let her go for several long moments. Finally, just as everyone was starting to wonder how they could hold their breath so long, Freya gently pushed her new husband away, saying, "I love you too, Gwaine, but I think our guests might like to go back to the palace and enjoy the feast now."

"There's only one thing I want to feast on," Gwaine teased with a playful growl.

"Later, dear," Freya said firmly.

Arm in arm, they walked back through the cheering crowd together. "See you in the banquet hall, gentlemen," Gwaine said as they passed Arthur, Merlin, and Mordred, giving them a jaunty salute before helping Freya into the bridal carriage.

###

The cooks had outdone themselves once again, preparing a delicious feast that included all of the newlyweds' favorites - roast pheasant and, for some strange reason, pickled eggs for Gwaine, and a four-tiered strawberry cake with cream frosting for Freya - but Morgana didn't enjoy it as much as she should have. She was seated between Merlin and Mordred, which made it impossible for her to ignore her nephew any longer; even more irksome was the way Mordred, in between stiff, awkward attempts at making small talk with her, kept butting in every time Merlin tried to talk to her or Arthur, who was on his other side. Moreover, it frequently seemed to her that Mordred was surreptitiously mocking them, much as he had when Balinor had mentioned her training with Nimueh and he slyly insinuated that she must be magically inept. Arthur, being his usual dense self, noticed nothing, but what Morgana found really infuriating was the fact that Merlin appeared equally oblivious.

At last dinner ended, Freya and Gwaine shared their first dance as a married couple, and then other couples began drifting out onto the floor, giving Morgana the opportunity she had been looking for to get her husband alone. "Excuse me, Mordred," she said politely, "but I wonder if I might steal Merlin away for a dance?"

A slight frown crossed Mordred's face, but before he could speak, Merlin answered for him. "No, I don't think so."

Morgana's eyebrows rose - she knew Merlin thought she was being a bit unfair to the boy, and they hadn't spoken either in person or mind-to-mind since she had refused to join him in inviting Mordred to the wedding, but surely he wasn't _that_ put out with her, was he? "Merlin-"

"You can't steal something that's already yours," he informed her, smiling mischievously as he stood up and offered her his hand.

"Thank you," Morgana murmured once they were out of earshot of the high table, their quiet conversation covered by music and the rustle of knights' capes and ladies' skirts. "I was getting tired of competing for your attention. Of course Arthur was as blissfully ignorant as ever, but I trust _you_ realized what Mordred was doing?"

Merlin nodded tersely.

"Yet you did nothing about it," Morgana said with a hint of frustration.

Merlin sighed. "Look, I can't say his attitude toward you and Arthur isn't disappointing, but it's hardly surprising either, is it? He only met you yesterday, and Morgause had years to fill his head with lies about Arthur being a monster and you betraying her by siding with him instead of your own kind; you can't expect to undo all of that overnight, but I think it'll happen eventually if you just be yourself - show him you aren't what Morgause made you out to be."

"And endure his constant needling in the meantime?"

"You won't have to do that; I didn't want to confront him just yet and risk pushing him away, but if he doesn't show some improvement soon I'll have a word with him. He can at least be polite whether he likes you or not."

Thus reassured, Morgana let herself relax and enjoy the dance.

Left alone at the table, Mordred stared out across the ballroom at all the couples twirling across the shining marble floor in each other's arms - Merlin and Morgana, Gwaine and Freya, Lancelot and Elena - even Arthur and Gwen had abandoned their attempts at pretending they weren't together now that everyone had had too much wine to care who the prince of Camelot danced with, so that everyone Mordred had ridden to the lake with was paired off. Everyone except him.

As he watched them all gazing dreamily into their partners' eyes like they were the only two people in the world, Mordred was seized by the same feeling of not belonging that had crept over him while he listened to them describe their favorite activities, which only drove home how empty his short existence had been in comparison, with the inescapable path of his destiny laid out before him. They had tried to make him feel like he was one of them, and maybe it had worked for a while, but now he was alone again, watching them live their lives in a world that seemed to lie just beyond his reach.

In an effort to shake off his sudden melancholy, he told himself he shouldn't _want_ to be part of their world - he was meant for greater things, and even if Arthur might not be the ogre Morgause and Agravaine had always painted him as, they were still beneath him; he didn't understand why Emrys bothered to treat these people like his equals when he could have had them crawling to obey his every command... Yet he couldn't completely silence the traitorous little voice whispering in the back of his mind that maybe he wanted it anyway.

Mordred slammed his goblet down on the mahogany tabletop, his face twisting into a scowl. This must be why he wasn't supposed to drink too much wine; Agravaine had warned him that it could put strange thoughts into a person's head.

###

"I'm sorry, Merlin, I need a break," Morgana gasped as the last strains of the song faded. They had been dancing almost an hour, and she was out of breath, not to mention dizzy thanks to her husband's insistence on twirling her around like a top at every opportunity.

"You do look a bit flushed," he agreed. "You should probably sit down." He guided her off the dance floor and deposited her in a chair. "I'll get you some water."

No sooner had he left than a new voice said softly, "You must beware, Morgana."

"Nimueh?" Sure enough, her mentor had appeared out of nowhere in that unnerving way of hers. Morgana started to stand, but Nimueh put a hand on her arm, holding her in place.

"Dark times lie ahead, child, and it may fall to you to lead our people through them."

"What are you talking about? You are the High Priestess; you will lead us-"

Nimueh shook her head. "Not for much longer; I sense that my time here is almost done."

Morgana opened her mouth to protest that Nimueh was far too young and healthy to be thinking such things, but as she looked closer she suddenly saw fine lines around the older woman's eyes that she had never noticed before, a touch of gray at her temples; she was unexpectedly, jarringly reminded that the High Priestess was near the same age as Balinor and Uther, and for the first time since Morgana had met her, Nimueh actually looked it. "What's happened to you? You weren't like this yesterday..."

"Yes, I was - this has been coming on for some time now. I've concealed it, though that is becoming more difficult each day."

"But why didn't you tell me, or Merlin?" Morgana demanded, blinking against the sting of tears rising in her eyes. "If you're ill-"

"I'm not," Nimueh assured her, patting her hand sympathetically. "The light of the Goddess is leaving me, that's all. It's something we all feel when the time draws near for us to pass on the mantle to our chosen heir...though perhaps you will not. The Crystal of Neahtid has shown me that you will be the last of us."

"The last High Priestess? How can that be, when Arthur has vowed to restore magic to Camelot once he takes the throne? The future has never looked more promising for our kind!"

Nimueh shook her head again, the golden baubles in her intricately braided hair clinking together. "I do not know; I only know that there will be no other High Priestess after you. Our future is in your hands, Morgana, so you must be on your guard. Albion's great trial is near, and if you do not survive it, our line will be ended."

"And what shall I guard against? When will this great trial begin?"

"It has already begun." Nimueh nodded toward the ballroom's huge arched doorway.

Following her line of sight, Morgana saw the court physician, Alice, entering. She started to protest that Alice was no harbinger of doom, but when she turned her head, Nimueh was gone. With an irritated sigh, she left her seat and made her way across the room to find out what was going on.

By the time she reached Alice, the old woman had pulled Arthur to the side of the hall, much to his obvious displeasure. "What's the meaning of this, physician? You had better have a good reason for dragging me away in the middle of a dance!"

"I do, sire... Ah, Princess Morgana - come here, your highness, you should hear this as well."

"What is it, Alice?" Morgana asked in a much kinder tone than Arthur's.

Alice drew in a deep breath. "Well, you know Gaius and I keep in contact through magical means that allow us instantaneous communication, and I just received a message from him saying that-" She abruptly broke off, then cleared her throat and tried again. "It's your father, Prince Arthur. He took a turn for the worse last night, and of course Gaius did everything he could, but... I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, sire, but he passed away an hour ago. Uther Pendragon is dead."


	6. Requiem For a Tyrant

The ballroom seemed to fade away, the music and chatter drowned out by the blood pounding in Arthur's ears, and Morgana's stricken face seemed oddly blurred, as if he was seeing her through a window with water running down the glass panes... Then Gwen appeared and took his hand, and her touch brought reality rushing back. "Arthur?" she asked worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"My father," he heard himself say in a flat voice that seemed to come from very far away. "My father is dead."

Gwen clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh, Arthur, that's horrible! I'm so sorry!"

"So am I," Merlin said quietly. "I know how hard this must be for you. Why don't you go upstairs with Gwen? We can tell everyone what's happened in the morning."

"Yes," Arthur said slowly, fighting through the numbness that seemed to have seized his brain. "Yes, there's no reason to ruin what's left of the celebration. We'll announce it first thing tomorrow. Thank you, Merlin."

"Yes, thank you, Merlin - you're always so thoughtful. I'll take good care of him, I promise." Taking hold of Arthur's arm, Gwen led him out of the ballroom.

Once they were gone, Merlin turned his attention to Morgana, who hadn't said a word during the whole exchange; her face was unreadable, though even paler than usual, and her emotions were in such turmoil that he couldn't begin to make sense of them. "Wait right here for me, all right?"

Morgana nodded gratefully and let herself lean on the wall while Merlin congratulated Gwaine and Freya one last time and made up some excuse for their early departure - ordinarily she didn't mind handling those necessary niceties, but tonight she wasn't sure she could have composed herself enough to pull it off without letting on that anything was amiss. Then he returned to her side and took her hand, and they were instantly transported to their private rooms; her silence was worrying him, and he wanted to get her away from prying eyes as quickly as possible in case she was about to have some sort of breakdown.

"Talk to me, Morgana. How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," she replied in a low, strained voice. "I should be happy, shouldn't I? Instead I feel almost...guilty."

"Why? You didn't kill Uther."

"Are you sure about that? He wasn't nearly as old as Gaius - he could have had years still ahead of him, but he was never the same after I-"

"Forced him to face the truth of who he'd become," Merlin said firmly. "That's all you did, Morgana - you did not make Uther the tyrant he was, nor could you control how he reacted when you stripped away his self-righteous delusions. If he had been a different sort of man, he could have taken it as a chance at redemption, a chance to learn from his mistakes and mend his ways, but instead he chose to withdraw into his own mind and let himself waste away. You are _not_ to blame for his choices."

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"You have nothing to feel guilty for," Merlin insisted.

Morgana struggled to find a flaw in his logic but couldn't. "I suppose you're right, and I certainly won't miss Uther...though in a way I almost wish I did, for Arthur's sake. It must be awful for him, mourning his father while knowing few share his sorrow."

Merlin nodded, feeling a similar surge of sympathy for his best friend. "We'll just have to make sure he knows we're there for him, no matter what."

###

Arthur didn't seem to be in need of emotional support, though, appearing calm and collected as he strode into the dining hall and stood at the head of the long table where his knights were eating breakfast. When everyone had put down their utensils and turned their attention to him, he said, "I have grave news to share with you all. It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that my father, King Uther, died last night. Gaius, who was with him at the time, sent word that his passing was painless and peaceful. Please finish your meals and then begin immediate preparations for our return home. That will be all."

"He's handling this much better than I expected," Morgana whispered to Gwen as Arthur took his seat at the high table with the royal family and their honored guests.

"I don't think he's really taken it in yet," Gwen whispered back. "He still seemed to be in shock when I left him last night."

"My deepest condolences on your loss, Prince Arthur," Balinor said, his voice carrying easily over the buzz caused by Arthur's news. "If there is anything I can do for you and your kingdom during this time of transition, you need only ask."

"And of course Gawant is firmly behind you too," Elena added.

Arthur experienced a brief jolt of shock at hearing Camelot referred to as _his_ kingdom, but he recovered quickly. "Thank you, your majesty, princess. Camelot is grateful for your support."

###

A few hours later, all of Camelot's knights were assembled in the courtyard, their horses saddled and their belongings packed in wagons. To Arthur's surprise and delight, Merlin, Morgana, Gwen, and Mordred were with them. "Are the four of you coming along?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course we are," Gwen said, her tone implying that it should have been obvious. "You don't think we'd make you bury your father alone, do you? Not that you'd really be alone with all the knights and lords, but you know what I mean."

"I do - I just wasn't sure, given Father's history with your kind..." Arthur's voice trailed off as he peered awkwardly at the three sorcerers in the group.

"Whatever else Uther may have been, he was also my guardian, and he always treated me well. It's only fitting that I should attend his funeral," Morgana said somewhat stiffly.

"We're here for you, Arthur," Merlin added. Mordred gave a slight nod, his expression inscrutable.

"Thank you." Arthur understood that his friends were only going to Camelot to be with him, that they didn't really care about paying their respects to Uther, but he couldn't blame them for their lack of grief over his father's passing. In fact, given that Uther had thought of them as abominations that needed to be exterminated - except for Gwen, but even she was a lesser being in his eyes because of her common blood - Arthur was inexpressibly grateful that they were able and willing to set aside their own feelings about the man in order to support him when he needed them the most.

He quickly clamped down on that emotion, though, lest it make him do something embarrassing like breaking down and blubbering about how much they all meant to him. "Well, we'd better get underway...just as soon as I find Elena. Has anyone seen her?"

"She's right over there," Morgana answered, pointing her out, "talking to Balinor."

"With Lancelot," Gwen added. She and Morgana exchanged meaningful looks, as if this was a significant development.

Arthur was momentarily confused, the news of Uther's death having pushed everything else out of his mind, but then he recalled the rather awkward conversation he'd had with Lord Godwyn in which his father's old friend had revealed that he and Uther had once planned to arrange a marriage between Arthur and Elena, and gently but persistently inquired whether Arthur had other plans. He'd also been particularly interested in Arthur's opinion on how Gawant's relations with Camelot and Dagon would be affected by Elena marrying a common-born knight. Of course Arthur was wholeheartedly in favor of the proposed match; he was all for Lancelot finding happiness with a woman who wasn't Gwen, and setting a precedent for royals marrying outside of the nobility could certainly help him and Gwen later, but he hadn't been able to give Godwyn a definite answer as to how Balinor would take to the idea. Now, being his usual nosy self, he sidled over to the castle's front steps to eavesdrop.

"Father has given me permission to marry any man I choose," Elena was telling Balinor, "and I have chosen Sir Lancelot. I respectfully request that you discharge him from your service so he and I may wed."

Balinor's bushy eyebrows rose ever so slightly, but aside from that he gave no outward sign of his reaction. "Is this your wish as well?" he asked Lancelot.

"It is, sire. I will always be grateful for the faith and trust you've placed in me, for allowing me to find a home here and giving me a chance to prove myself worthy of being called a knight when no other king would have done so-" He paused as his voice became rather choked, and swallowed hard before continuing. "But my heart belongs to Elena."

"Well, who am I to stand in the way of true love? Sir Lancelot, you have served me loyally and honorably; I hereby release you from your oaths to myself and my kingdom, though you will always be welcome in Dagon. You may take your favorite horse with you as a token of my appreciation." Lancelot tried to protest that he didn't deserve such generosity, but Balinor waved away his objections. "I insist. If you don't want a reward you've earned many times over, call it an early wedding present. I wish you and Elena a long and happy life together."

"Thank you, your majesty." Lancelot bowed deeply, then quickly turned and walked away, wiping his eyes.

Balinor also looked away, a little embarrassed by the young man's poorly hidden show of emotion, and his eyes fell on Merlin, Morgana, Arthur, and Gwen, who were much too close to have been doing anything but listening in. "What are you four smiling at?"

"Nothing, Father," Merlin said with the same innocent expression that he had used as a child to worm his way out of trouble when he got caught reading after he was supposed to have gone to bed. "We're just glad you decided to let Lancelot marry Elena."

"We all think it's a fine match," Arthur chimed in.

"I'm sure you do. Should I expect a similar request in regard to Guinevere soon?"

Arthur and Gwen blinked at him in confusion, then exchanged startled looks that slowly transformed into slightly sheepish grins as it dawned on them that, with Uther gone, there was nothing stopping them from being together. "It's a bit too soon after my father's death to be thinking of such things," Arthur said at length, "but some time in the next couple of months, yes."

"Hmph. It's a good thing Dagon isn't at war; how am I supposed to protect this kingdom with you and Princess Elena stealing away my best knights?"

"I think we'll manage, Father," Merlin said with his usual dry humor. "After all, we still have dragons."

###

They left soon after that; when they were some distance from the castle, Lancelot turned in his saddle for one last look back, feeling a surge of nostalgia as he realized that he probably wouldn't see it again for a long time, and even if he returned some day, it would no longer be his home. Then he glanced over at Elena and reminded himself that leaving Dagon didn't mean he had to give up the friends he'd made there - he might not get to see them as often, but that was a small sacrifice to make in exchange for being with her.

Elena, meanwhile, was discussing travel plans with Arthur. "No, we don't need to detour into Gawant; I know my father would want to be at King Uther's funeral if he could, but since he can't make it in time, I'll attend in his place."

"Good - taking you home would add another week to our journey, and I want to make the best time we possibly can. Camelot needs me."

"If you're really eager to get back, you should ask Merlin to use a transportation spell," Lancelot suggested. "We could be there in minutes."

"Is that true?" Arthur demanded, his eyes widening as he turned to stare at his best friend, who shrunk down a little in his saddle. "Could you really take us all to Camelot just like that?"

"Well, yes. I've visited Camelot twice - how did you think I got there so fast?"

"I'm afraid you've made a fundamental logical error there, my love," Morgana snickered. "You're assuming Arthur _thinks_."

"You're right, I don't know how I could've made such a mistake."

"I just thought you had fast horses," Arthur muttered.

"So, do you want me to do it?" Merlin asked.

Arthur didn't answer right away, and Mordred's eyes narrowed as he waited for Arthur's response. He had noted before that Arthur seemed shockingly comfortable with people he knew to be sorcerers, but this was the first time Mordred had seen anyone actually propose using magic in his presence.

"I should probably make sure everyone else is comfortable with it first," Arthur replied, not quite meeting Merlin's eyes. He called a halt and, when everybody had gathered in close enough to hear him, explained the situation. "I've decided to accept Merlin's offer of magical transport, as I believe it is my duty to return to Camelot without delay. I invite anyone who so desires to join me; those who do not wish to travel by magic are free to make their way home by road. No one will think any less of you."

Gwen, Lancelot, Elena, Will, and Sefa immediately moved their horses over to where Arthur waited with Merlin, Morgana, and Mordred. A moment later, Leon also nudged his horse forward. This caused a lot of muttering and shuffling among the knights, but no one else stepped up, and Will had to take the reins of the cart carrying the royals' luggage since the original driver, a squire, also refused to go along. Will unhappily handed over his horse and climbed into the cart, grumbling about pansies and pantywaists (the squire didn't appreciate having such insults heaped on him by a servant, but since the servant in question was willing to do what he wouldn't, there was nothing he could do about it). Will cheered up somewhat, though, when Sefa decided to ride in the wagon with him.

Arthur secretly agreed with the manservant; despite his promise not to think less of anyone, he had hoped the valiant members of Albion's most elite fighting force would show a bit more mettle, but he managed to hide his disappointment. "All right, Merlin, do whatever-"

He was still talking when he saw Merlin's eyes turn gold, and the world seemed to fall out from under him.

###

"-You have to do," Arthur finished, even as he realized they were now standing on a small rise less than five miles from the main city of Camelot. "Was that it then?"

"Yes, that's it," Merlin assured him. "There are flashier ways of moving from place to place, but I didn't think you'd like being carried all that way in a whirlwind, not to mention that our horses would be in a panic by the time we arrived."

"That was how Morgause did it when she abducted us," Gwen said with a slight shudder. "I like your way much better, Merlin."

"Well, it's not as exciting as flying on a dragon, but it is convenient. Now that we're here, let's not waste any more time chatting." Arthur turned his stallion toward the city and spurred it into a gallop. The rest followed suit, except for Will and Sefa; the carthorse's idea of picking up its pace was just to plod a tiny bit faster, so they were soon left behind.

###

Because Arthur wasn't expected to arrive so soon, there was no crowd of courtiers waiting to greet him and his friends; it was almost eerily silent inside the castle, which suited the prince perfectly. There was only one person he wanted to see at the moment.

"Where is everyone?" Mordred asked, his voice seeming to echo in the deserted halls.

"This is a time of mourning, so most of the staff's been sent home," Arthur explained. "Come on, I want to find Gaius."

Gaius, of course, was exactly where he usually was, brewing remedies in his workshop, though he dropped his mortar and pestle at the sight of Arthur. "My liege! I am so sorry for your loss, sire."

"Thank you, Gaius. I'm glad you were with my father...at the end. He wasn't in pain, was he?" Arthur asked almost desperately. "I told everyone he went peacefully, but I need to know..."

"He did, sire. As you know, his strength had been waning for some time; he hardly left his bed anymore, and last night he slipped away quietly in his sleep. I can take you to him if you'd like."

Throat too tight to speak, Arthur nodded. Gaius led him and his small party to the throne room, then excused himself. At Arthur's request, Gwen, Merlin, and Morgana went in with him while the others waited outside the doors. They were greeted by a somber sight; the grand room and the throne that normally dominated it were draped in black, as were most of the windows, producing a shadowy atmosphere that was only magnified by the silence and emptiness. Only the windows in the middle of the room were left uncovered, and there, bathed in golden rays of sunlight, sat the bier where Uther's body lay.

Arthur slowly walked up to it, his friends following a step behind him, and gazed down at his father. With his hair washed and combed and his face shaved, dressed in his finest clothes with his crown on his head and his sword on his chest, hands folded over the hilt, Uther almost looked like the mighty king he once was; it was only upon closer inspection that one noticed his shrunken appearance, the thinning gray hair and deeply lined face that told the story of his decline over the last five years.

Morgana braced herself as she took her place beside Arthur, but as her eyes fastened on the shriveled remains of the man she had hated more than any other soul under the sun, she felt none of the fear and loathing the living Uther had inspired in her, nor any sense of triumph at standing over the vanquished body of her enemy. The great oppressor, the architect of misery for so many, was nothing more than a pitiful, empty shell, and it didn't feel like she had defeated him - he had defeated himself. It was sad, really, but she couldn't muster any grief for him either. For the most part, she was just glad that his death had cleared the way for Arthur's ascension to the throne, though she was careful not to let any trace of those feelings show on her face, knowing Arthur wouldn't appreciate her sentiments.

Glancing at the future king out of the corner of her eye, she was surprised to see that his eyes were dry, his face as expressionless as hers. She reached out, tentatively brushing her fingers over the back of his hand. "Arthur?"

"It's strange," he said in a quiet, rough voice, as if the tears he hadn't shed had gotten stuck in his throat, "I thought I'd be devastated when he died. Instead, I feel almost...relieved. God, that sounds horrible, doesn't it? But he hasn't been himself for so long - it feels like he's been gone for years already, and I got through with mourning him a long time ago."

"I don't think that's horrible at all," Gwen assured him. "I think almost anyone would feel the same way."

Arthur smiled gratefully at her and squeezed her hand, then sighed as his eyes were drawn back to Uther. "You know, he always seemed larger than life when I was younger; I idolized him, worried that I could never live up to him... I still worry about that sometimes, even now, and I...I miss him, the good times we had together, the man he could have been if my mother hadn't died. I know that must seem foolish to you all - I know he did terrible things..."

"There was still good in him, though. No matter what he did, your father loved you," Merlin said earnestly. "Remember when the war finally ended, and he asked me to heal you? You were more important to him than anything else, even his hatred of magic. Remember that...but remember where he went wrong too, and be better."

"Yes." Arthur nodded, relieved that his friend didn't think him a fool or fault him for wanting to hold on to the good memories of his father as well as the bad. "You're right, Merlin. You know, as hard as it is to believe, I sometimes think you're the wisest of all of us...and you're a true friend."

Taking a step closer to the bier, he bent down and kissed Uther's forehead. "Goodbye, Father." As he straightened up, a single tear trailed down his cheek. Arthur brushed it off, then turned around and walked away, leaving Uther behind.

 **Glad that's over - trying to capture Arthur's complicated feelings toward Uther was so hard it actually took me a couple extra days just to get those last few paragraphs right.**


	7. The Crowning of King Arthur

**Wow, two stories updated in one month! That's gotta be a record for me, but I really wanted to post another chapter before the fall semester started, and I almost made it.**

 **Warning: Agravaine's back, and he continues to be the worst.**

Leon, Mordred, Lancelot, and Elena were still waiting outside the throne room when the quartet emerged, along with Arthur's uncle and chief advisor, Lord Agravaine. "I apologize for not organizing a proper greeting for you, my lord; had I been informed that you would arrive today, of course I would have done so."

"That's quite all right, uncle. Honestly, given the circumstances, I was glad not to have all the fuss."

Agravaine then turned his attention to Morgana, ignoring Merlin and Gwen as he took hold of her hand, which she had been just a little too slow in hiding behind her back, and raised it to his lips. "Morgana, how wonderful it is to see you again," he said in an unctuous tone that made her skin crawl. "You're looking lovely as ever."

"Thank you, _Lord_ Agravaine," she replied, placing a subtle emphasis on his title to remind him that it was inappropriate for him to be so familiar with her. "It's nice to see you again as well."

"Yes, you were here the last time we visited too, weren't you?" Merlin chimed in. "I'm surprised your own province can spare you so often."

Agravaine's smarmy smile took on a rather forced quality as he addressed the warlock, which only grew more pronounced when Merlin reached out and, in a single lightning-fast motion, extricated Morgana's hand from his grasp. "Yes, well, we all must make sacrifices. In these trying times, I feel it's my duty to provide my nephew with support and guidance."

"And I'm grateful for all you've done," Arthur said, oblivious to the way his best friend and uncle were eyeing each other with something very close to dislike, as well as the fact that said uncle had held on to Morgana's hand much longer than was proper. "I'll be even more grateful if you'll see that arrangements are made for our guests. Morgana's old room will do for her and Merlin, but Guinevere, Mordred, Lancelot, and Elena will need chambers in the guest wing."

"I've already alerted the servants, sire."

###

Merlin and Morgana were looking forward to spending some time alone together, but it was not to be; Will and Sefa were already in their room, unpacking their belongings under the direction of another servant. When they walked in, he left off bossing Will and Sefa around and greeted them with a deep bow. "Ah, Prince Merlin and Princess Morgana, I presume. I have taken the liberty of having water brought up to your washroom and laying out fresh clothes for you both, as I assume you'll want to freshen up before dining with Prince Arthur. Lunch will be served precisely at twelve o'clock, and your punctual attendance will be appreciated."

The royal couple glanced sideways at each other, confirming that neither had any idea who this officious young man was, before Merlin spoke. "Who are you, and what are you doing in our chambers?"

The unknown man bowed deeply again, apologized for not giving his name at once, and pompously introduced himself as Arthur's manservant, George.

"Thank you for your help, George, but we don't want to keep you from your duties any longer. I'm sure Arthur wants to freshen up too, and he could probably use your assistance. Heaven knows he can't change clothes by himself," Morgana added under her breath.

"Didn't Arthur have a different servant last time we were here?" Merlin asked as George scurried off.

"Yeah, and I wish he'd kept the old one, because this one's an even bigger bootlicker," Will said angrily. "As if it wasn't bad enough that I got stuck driving that plodding old nag because some stupid sissy of a squire couldn't stand a little magic, then when we finally got here that puffed-up prick-"

"Will!" Sefa gasped.

"-Prat, I meant to say prat," Will hastily corrected himself. "Anyway, as soon as we got here, he started ordering us around like he's the bloody king!"

"Well, we'll have a word with Arthur about him." Merlin shook his head in mock disapproval. "I can't imagine anyone letting their servant get away with such behavior."

"I know, right?"

Morgana and Sefa giggled, well aware that Will got away with more than any other servant in Albion, but the joke seemed to go right over Will's head.

###

When Merlin brought up their encounter with George at lunch (which was indeed served exactly at noon; he and Morgana had arrived three minutes late, earning a glare from the aforementioned manservant), it soon became apparent that Arthur had sent him to 'help' Will and Sefa to get him out of his own hair. "Not that I have any complaints about his service, of course. He's probably the most efficient servant in the realm, but he's seriously dull. I mean, the man makes jokes about _brass_."

"If you dislike him so much, why did you give him the position?" Gwen asked.

"Yes, whatever happened to that odious fellow, Cedric, who used to work for you?" Morgana wondered.

"It's a long story. Do you remember the last time you all were here?"

Gwen nodded. "Of course, the tournament - knights from all over Albion came to compete-"

"And you proved yourself a match for all of them," Arthur said proudly. He and Gwen got lost in each other's eyes for a moment, until a fake cough from Morgana reminded him that he was in the middle of a story. "Anyway, you know that was also when my uncle and I decided to follow through on plans Father had made before he fell ill, to excavate the catacombs beneath the castle in search of the treasures he believed were hidden there by the people who held these lands before he conquered them, and we came across the tomb of that old sorcerer... What was his name again?"

"Cornelius Sigan," Merlin supplied. It was a name he was very familiar with, since a great number of the history books in Dagon's royal library featured accounts of Sigan's legendary accomplishments and untimely death at the hands of a cowardly king who envied the magician's awesome powers. Naturally, he'd been thrilled at getting the chance to examine artifacts left behind by the great sorcerer - until Gaius mentioned a part of the story that hadn't made it into any of Merlin's books. Before his execution, Sigan had allegedly cast a curse that would somehow allow him to return from the dead and wreak his revenge on Camelot. At first, Gaius was concerned that Merlin wasn't taking his warnings seriously enough - while he agreed that the possibility of a curse wasn't to be taken lightly, he thought he would be able to avoid or neutralize any dangerous enchantments Sigan might have left behind - but then Morgana put her foot down and told him that if he wanted to study ancient relics, he would have to find some that weren't cursed.

"I can't believe you've forgotten - it was only the most significant historical find of the age!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're still upset because your wife wouldn't let you play around in the tomb. Honestly, you were as bad as my uncle; he went on for days about how a little more exploration couldn't have hurt as long as we took proper precautions, although I think it was more Sigan's gold that he cared about. Anyway, the night before the tomb was sealed up again, I caught Cedric trying to sneak in and pocket some of the valuables, so I had to dismiss him. That's how I got stuck with George."

"Maybe I should have him spend a week with Will; that should cure him of being dull and efficient."

"Please do." Arthur felt a moment's guilt over subjecting his manservant to whatever torments Will might devise for him, but the thought of never having to hear another brass joke soon silenced his conscience.

After that, the conversation turned to Uther's burial - which was scheduled for that very night since it was generally considered inadvisable to leave a corpse sitting out too long - and Arthur's coronation. Having started the day expecting that it would take weeks for him to reach Camelot on horseback, he was somewhat overwhelmed at the realization that he could become king as early as tomorrow.

"I know it's all happening a bit fast, but there's really no need to wait any longer - and there's no need for you to be nervous. You're going to be a great king," Gwen assured him, reaching over and squeezing his hand. "Now you can finally do all the things we talked about."

Instead of returning her smile, Arthur dropped his gaze to the food he'd barely touched. "Actually, I'm not sure I can...not all of them. There's something I've been meaning to tell you all, I just wasn't sure how..."

"I assume this is why you only asked the three of us to dine with you and sent the servants out as soon as our plates were in front of us?" Morgana surmised.

"Yes - well, Lancelot and Elena wouldn't have joined us anyway. They wanted some private time together-"

"So what's the bad news?" Merlin asked, cutting off his attempts at stalling.

Arthur hesitated another second or two, and then the words spilled out of him in a rush. "It's... Look, I know I promised to allow magic back into Camelot, and I really have been trying to change the people's attitude toward it, but things haven't been going as well as I'd hoped. You saw what my knights were like - they're all brave men, but they'd rather ride all that way than travel by magic even though it's much faster, and probably safer since it eliminates the risk of meeting bandits. Then there was the outbreak of disease last winter - I gave Gaius permission to try a magical cure on the patients who were too sick to be saved any other way, but almost none of them would accept his help until they were on their deathbeds...and some wouldn't even do it then. Gaius told me one woman was so afraid of magic, she absolutely refused to let him treat her child even when he kept getting worse and worse... In the end, the boy died, and there was nothing Gaius or I could do."

Gwen's eyes filled with tears as she tightened her grip on his hand. "Oh, Arthur, I'm so sorry. You mustn't blame yourself - you did your best..."

Arthur sighed. "I know; it's just hard, realizing that sometimes I can't protect my people from themselves. In any case, until I can stamp out all this fear and prejudice, I don't see how I can lift the ban on sorcery. There'd be riots in the streets if I did, especially with all the damn rumors that keep cropping up-"

"What rumors?" Morgana asked.

"Oh, every other week I hear some story about this village or that one having trouble with someone using magic for malicious mischief. I've never been able to find any of these alleged sorcerers or their supposed victims, but as long as there are stories like that going around, the people are adamant that they won't accept magic in Camelot."

"It sounds like someone's trying to sabotage your efforts."

"Believe it or not, Morgana, the thought has crossed my mind, but who would want to do that, and why?"

###

While Arthur and his closest friends discussed the setbacks he was experiencing as he tried to reintroduce magic to Camelot, Mordred and Agravaine were discussing what further obstacles they could place in his path - or at least Agravaine was trying to, but Mordred's mind was clearly elsewhere. "My lord," he said at last, when his ward's inattention became impossible to ignore, "is something troubling you?"

"Yes, Agravaine, this whole business troubles me. All my life I've been told that Arthur Pendragon was no different from Uther, but now that I've met the man, he certainly seems different. It makes me wonder...is it possible that my mother could have been wrong about him? And if she was...is all this really necessary? After all, I have Escetia; no one can dispute my claim there."

Agravaine stared at him, wondering how any son of Morgause, the most formidable and ambitious woman he had ever known, could entertain such thoughts even for a second. _It must be whatever part of Merlin is in the boy,_ he decided. _I should have tried harder to keep them apart; they've known one another less than a week and already Merlin's begun turning Mordred into a spineless, sentimental fool like him!_

"It's true that the Escetian throne is your birthright, my lord," he said carefully, "but are you truly willing to settle for only that which is given to you by others' consent? You have the power to take more, so why should you not?"

"This was never supposed to be about conquest," Mordred reminded him. "The prophecies say I must take Camelot in order to liberate my people from the Pendragons' oppression. That's what I find so confusing, because if Arthur is _not_ like Uther-"

"I assure you he is. Oh, he may be clever enough to realize magic can be a useful tool, and he does what he must to maintain his alliance with Merlin, merely banishing many of the people his father would have sent to the chopping block, but he will never truly see sorcerers as his equals. When he takes the throne, he will not permit magic to return to Camelot. Only when you defeat him and take your rightful place as king will your kind receive the reverence they deserve."

Mordred still wasn't entirely convinced. "Very well, I shall wait and see what happens. If Arthur refuses to repeal Uther's law, then we will go ahead with our plans."

"Of course, my lord." Agravaine wasn't worried; he knew for a fact that Arthur wouldn't legalize magic, since he had personally seen to it that Arthur's own people would storm the palace with pitchforks and torches if he did. Creating a climate of fear and suspicion had been shockingly easy - all he'd had to do was pay a few people to spread false tales of being terrorized by sorcerers, and the idiot peasants gobbled up their lies without question despite the lack of any solid evidence.

Agravaine hoped this ploy might drive a wedge between Arthur and his friends from Dagon, but more importantly, it would ensure that Mordred continued to believe in his 'destiny' and played his part...with Agravaine by his side, of course. _When he takes over, I will be rewarded beyond measure. Everything I desire will be mine at last!_

###

As afternoon faded into dusk, the main courtyard slowly filled with black-clad mourners bearing candles, and Uther's bier was carried out so that the commoners who weren't allowed into the castle to pay their respects could get one last look at their late king. Geoffrey of Monmouth delivered a eulogy lauding Uther's greatest achievements (per Arthur's request, purging Camelot of magic had been omitted from that list, so Geoffrey focused instead on Uther's victories in battle, his long, prosperous reign, and his peace treaties with Camelot's former enemies, Dagon and Mercia). Uther was then taken to the crypts beneath the palace and laid to rest beside his beloved Ygraine, whose stone likeness lay atop her tomb, her hands folded in peaceful repose. The city's best stonemasons were already working on a matching statue of Uther, which would take months to complete.

"Well, I guess that's it," Arthur remarked as he watched the unadorned temporary lid being lowered onto Uther's coffin. "He's really gone."

Merlin nodded. "Uther's reign is over...and yours begins in the morning. You'd better get to bed; can't have you falling asleep during the coronation and drooling in front of everybody."

###

By morning, the throne room was transformed; the black drapes were gone and the sun's rays streamed in, reflecting off the shimmering red and gold hangings and filling the whole room with light. Still, nothing shone brighter than the gleaming golden crown Geoffrey placed on Arthur's head, except perhaps Gwen's adoring smile as he recited his oaths of office and took his place on the throne.

The customary chant of "Long live the king!" went on for several minutes, until Arthur raised his hand for quiet. Then everyone fell silent, waiting eagerly for him to speak. "People of Camelot, and honored guests," he began in a strong, clear voice, "it is my greatest wish to serve you all as well as my father did for so many years - years in which in our kingdom flourished, free of war and strife, thanks to his efforts at making peace with old adversaries such as Mercia, and more recently, Dagon. I hope to follow his example, not only by strengthening our bonds with old friends, but by improving our relations with _all_ the lands of Albion, so that one day Camelot can claim every nation as an ally."

The announcement of such high aspirations set off a flurry of whispers throughout the audience, but Arthur ignored them, determined to finish the speech his friends had helped him craft the night before while it was still relatively fresh in his mind. "Let us all take inspiration from my father and set aside old differences, so that we may all move forward into a new era of peace, cooperation, and friendship - together."

As the crowd burst into applause, he shot an apologetic look at Merlin and Morgana, wishing he could have openly expressed his intention to include sorcerers like them in the new era of peace as well instead of just making general statements about putting aside differences and establishing new diplomatic ties; better yet, he wished he could have lifted Uther's ban on magic right then and there. They responded with reassuring smiles, letting him know that they understood the quandary he was in and trusted him to follow through on his promises as soon as it was feasible.

None of them saw Agravaine's triumphant smirk, or the look of disappointment in Mordred's eyes, which slowly gave way to a cold glare as he stared up at the new king.


	8. The Slippery Slope

**This chapter is largely a rewrite of 4x05, because I didn't like how Arthur let Agravaine prod him into executing Caerleon against his better judgment; on the other hand, Agravaine had a valid point about Arthur needing to protect his people from foreign invaders, so I wanted to see if I could find a better solution to Arthur's dilemma that wouldn't almost plunge Camelot into a war. But mostly, I really hated that stupid spell evil!Morgana used to make Arthur's sword super heavy - oh, I'm sorry, 'enchant it with the weight of a thousand ages'. After all the buildup with Agravaine stealing the sword and it bursting into flames when the spell was cast, I was expecting something much cooler...and time doesn't have any physical weight! So we won't be having any of that.**

A sumptuous banquet was held after the coronation; the grand dining hall was filled with music, and everywhere one looked people were smiling and laughing as they enjoyed the fine food. Only one person seemed immune to the festive atmosphere - Mordred barely took two bites of the main course before pushing his plate away and slipping out of the hall. He retreated to a balcony that was the closest source of fresh air, but there was no escaping the revelry; from his high vantage point, he could see the townspeople celebrating in the streets, and the sights and sounds disgusted him. How stupid they were, acting like this was the dawn of some glorious new chapter in Camelot's history, not even realizing they had merely exchanged one tyrant for another - or more likely not caring, since he wouldn't be persecuting _them_. Their attitude was understandable, Mordred supposed. What else could one expect from a bunch of simple-minded peasants?

What he couldn't understand was why Merlin and Morgana had stood by Arthur, supporting him even after it became clear that conditions for their kind would not improve under his rule. _I can only imagine he fed them a string of lies - Agravaine did say he was clever enough to realize sorcerers are useful allies._ _Apparently I'm the only one who can see through him, which must be why the prophecy named me as the only one who can defeat him, the only one who can free my kind._

The idea of being the one destined to save his fellow magic-users had always inspired him, given him a sense of purpose and conviction, but now...now thinking of his great destiny brought on a feeling almost like dread, because Arthur was no longer a faceless enemy, and neither were his friends, the people who might very well become collateral damage in Mordred's fight for the freedom of magic. _None of them have magic,_ he sternly reminded himself, _except that girl whose wedding I attended, and she's only a single druid. What are their lives worth compared to those of my people?_ Still, he didn't relish the prospect of killing them. Perhaps, he reflected, this was why Agravaine had kept him isolated all his life, to protect him from the realization of what a great burden his destiny truly was.

"Mordred? What are you doing out here by yourself?"

Taken by surprise, he whirled around just as Merlin came out onto the balcony. "I could ask you the same thing. Why aren't you at the feast?"

"I saw you leave, and you didn't look happy. What's wrong? Is the music too loud? Meat not cooked to your liking?"

"No, nothing like that. I was just thinking...about my future."

"I see." Merlin nodded as if he understood exactly what was on Mordred's mind, though Mordred couldn't imagine how - but then, who knew what the great Emrys might be capable of? He felt a tremor of apprehension run up his spine as Merlin came closer, but the older sorcerer's expression remained one of friendly concern. "It must have been hard watching Arthur take his rightful place as king when you haven't been able to do the same, but I promise you, we will bring the Escetian lords in line and help you claim your throne."

"It wasn't Escetia I was thinking of. I'm not certain that's where my destiny truly lies."

"Well, your destiny is whatever you want it to be, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about? A person's destiny is chosen for them - that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily. All my life, I've been told it's my destiny to be king of Dagon, but if I decided I didn't want to be king, what's to stop me from taking Morgana and running off to some faraway land where nobody knows us and we could just live out our lives as ordinary common folk?" He paused for a moment, staring off into the distance with a slightly wistful look before continuing. "...Aside from the fact that Morgana would never let me do something so irresponsible, that is. Anyway, I would never abandon my duty to my people, but it's still my choice."

"I suppose, but if your fate is laid out in prophecy-"

"Prophecies aren't set in stone," Merlin impatiently cut in; he'd gone through this argument several times with Morgana, and it was the one thing they never fully agreed on - he always insisted that a person's fate was in their own hands, while she, being a seer, thought he was too quick to dismiss prophecy. "I've studied the various roles prophecies have played in our history, and I believe they can offer insight into what _might_ happen, but when it comes down to it, you don't have to do anything you don't want to just because it's foretold."

For one brief, wonderful second, Mordred felt a tiny glimmer of hope that there might be a way out after all, that maybe he did have a choice...but then he thought of all the sorcerers who would suffer if nothing was done about Arthur. Even if it was an option, how could he turn his back on them? "Say you're right," he said slowly, "and the events outlined in prophecy are only possibilities. If prophecy says you have a chance to do something important, shouldn't you do it?"

Merlin hesitated before answering, thinking of how he and Arthur had set themselves the nearly impossible task of fulfilling a prophecy that said they would unite all the lands of Albion. It was a daunting prospect to say the least, and they weren't at all sure it could be done, but when they considered all the good they could do if they somehow managed it, they knew they had to try. "If you really believe it's the right thing to do...if you think you can make the world better...then yes, of course you should."

Mordred nodded, feeling his old resolve rushing back. "Thank you, Merlin. I needed to hear that." He doubted Merlin would have given him the same advice if he knew the destiny Mordred was wrestling with involved killing the man he regarded as a brother, and he would probably be furious when he realized what Mordred was up to…but some day, when Arthur was out of the way and Mordred had a chance to prove that he was a better ruler for Camelot, Merlin would understand that he'd done the right thing.

With no way of knowing what he'd just set in motion, Merlin grinned and patted him on the back. "Glad I could help."

###

"You took your time at the feast."

Agravaine started, not having known as he entered his chambers that Mordred was already inside. "It was necessary to keep up appearances, my lord. As Arthur's uncle and chief advisor, it might have looked suspicious if I didn't celebrate his coronation along with everyone else." Besides, he'd figured his plans to topple Arthur could wait a few more hours; there was no reason to miss out on good food. "Still, I apologize for keeping you waiting. Is there something you wish to discuss?"

"You were right about Arthur; he did not repeal Uther's ban on magic, and he gave no sign that he ever intends to allow sorcerers to live in Camelot again. I see now that he must be eliminated if my people are ever to regain their rightful place in Albion."

"Excellent, my lord. I knew you would see the truth soon enough, so I took the liberty of preparing our first strike against the new king, but I require your assistance." Agravaine crossed the room to his desk, unlocked a drawer, and took out a number of papers, all stamped with the royal seal. "These are the king's orders to the commanders of the garrisons guarding Camelot's borders, which he asked me to dispatch." He selected one from the stack and handed it to Mordred. "Is there a spell that can rewrite this message without altering the handwriting, and then reform the seal so no one can tell it's been opened?"

"Of course, that's child's play," Mordred replied with the barest hint of disdain. "How shall I reword it?"

Agravaine dictated the new message, then scooped up all the missives, including the one that had been tampered with, which was indistinguishable from the rest. "I shall send these to the borders forthwith, and soon Arthur will face his first test as king - a test I will ensure he fails."

###

The first three weeks of Arthur's reign went smoothly, but then, just when the visitors from Dagon and Gawant were starting to think about going home, word came from the border that King Caerleon had invaded and seized one of Camelot's far-flung provinces. Arthur rode out with his friends and the knights of Camelot to deal with the incursion, and rounded up the invading force in short order.

"Take these men to the garrison," Arthur ordered once they were all kneeling before him in chains. "They'll remain our prisoners until I settle things with their king. I'll send a messenger to him at first light-"

"That won't be necessary, your highness," Agravaine interrupted. Striding over to one of the prisoners, an older man with a short, graying beard, he took hold of a chain around the man's neck and pulled out a royal crest which had been hidden beneath the man's armor. "You can speak to him right now."

Arthur's eyes widened. "King Caerleon. Quite audacious of you to lead the charge yourself."

Caerleon glowered up at him and said nothing.

"Still, I'm glad you're here; now we can begin our peace talks without delay. You and your men must withdraw from my lands at once-"

"Your lands?" Caerleon sneered. "Bah! A king who leaves his borders unprotected deserves to lose his holdings. We're not going anywhere."

"Leave my borders unprotected? What are you talking about?"

"How do you think I took this province so easily, boy? When my men and I crossed the border, we found it guarded only by an empty garrison!"

Arthur didn't understand how that could have happened; it was true that the border guards had been changed recently, but the soldiers manning the garrison weren't supposed to leave until the next group had arrived, in order to avoid precisely the lapse in Camelot's defenses Caerleon had just described. That his orders had apparently been disobeyed was both confusing and worrying, but he knew he couldn't afford to show such emotions in front of his enemy and quickly hardened his features into a stern expression. "Nevertheless, you have no right to violate the boundaries agreed upon by our ancestors. Return to your own kingdom and let there be peace between us, as there was between your father and mine."

"I am not my father," Caerleon retorted, "and you are not Uther. You don't have his mettle; you are weak and foolish, and I would sooner die than yield to you!"

"That can be arranged," Agravaine interjected. "Withdraw from Camelot and sign a treaty wherein you will swear to respect our borders from this day forth, as well as surrendering Evorwick in reparation for attempting to take what doesn't belong to you, or the king will have your head."

"You expect me to humiliate myself? Never!" Caerleon turned a fierce glare on Arthur. "Take my head, boy, if you have the guts."

Arthur didn't answer; he was too busy staring at Agravaine. "This isn't your decision, uncle! I am not going to murder this man!"

"It is what your father would have done. You heard him, sire - he does not respect you as he did Uther, he will not cease his attacks. How can your people have faith in their king to protect them if you do not take decisive action to stop this invasion?"

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, then silently closed it and swallowed hard. He felt cornered and desperately wished somebody would pipe up with a helpful suggestion, but no one did. "Lock him up with the rest," he said at last. "I'll decide what to do with him in the morning. In the meantime, no one is to harm him." After Caerleon and his men were led away, Arthur added, "Merlin, Morgana, Guinevere, Lancelot, I'd like to confer with you all in private, please."

Agravaine stepped forward to join them, but Arthur held up a hand to stop him. "Not you, uncle - I already know what you want me to do, and as much as I value your advice, I need to hear other perspectives as well."

"Yes, sire," Agravaine replied through gritted teeth.

###

Arthur had taken the commander's quarters at the garrison, which comprised a small room - at least compared to what he was used to - furnished with a bed, a simple wooden table, and two chairs. He'd had extra chairs brought in to accommodate his four friends, but he was too agitated to sit, instead pacing restlessly. "I don't know what to do. My uncle is right - I can't allow Caerleon to continue harassing my people, but killing him in cold blood feels wrong. Still, unless I can find some way to make him stay on his side of the border, that may be my only option." He stopped at his foster sister's chair. "Morgana, can you offer any insight into which course of action I should take?"

"Let me see..." She went very still, her eyes sliding out of focus.

Arthur frowned and waved his hand in front of her face, getting no response. "What's she doing?" he asked Merlin.

"Looking into the future."

"Doesn't she need to be asleep to do that, or use a crystal or something?"

"Not anymore - what she does need is peace and quiet."

"So quit talking, both of you," Gwen whispered reproachfully.

Just then, Morgana's eyes refocused as her mind snapped back into the present. "You can't kill him, Arthur; if you do, his wife, Queen Annis, will go to war against you. I saw her vowing to make all of Camelot pay for her husband's death." She shivered, and Merlin put his arm around her.

"All right, so I can't execute him. What _can_ I do?"

"I have an idea," Merlin said slowly. "Something that should show Caerleon - not to mention his queen and all his knights - why attacking Camelot is a very bad idea..."

Morgana gazed intently into his eyes, reading the plan as it formed in his mind. "Oh, that's brilliant, Merlin! Yes, that should certainly make them think twice before crossing the border again."

"What are you two going on about?" Arthur demanded.

"Would you mind sharing your plan out loud for those of us who can't hear thoughts?" Lancelot asked, much more politely.

"Sorry. Here's what I was thinking..."

By the time Merlin finished outlining his solution, even Arthur looked impressed. "That...might actually work. As much as it pains me to say this, good thinking, Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Arthur. I'll go take care of the necessary arrangements so we can make our move at dawn tomorrow. Morgana, can I have a word?"

Frowning in confusion, she followed him into the darkened hallway outside Arthur's quarters. "What is it? Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, you'd better stay here and make sure Arthur doesn't get himself into any more trouble. I just wanted to make sure you were all right - you seemed shaken by your vision."

She nodded. "A great deal of bloodshed might have resulted if Arthur had listened to Agravaine and executed Caerleon; it still might if your plan doesn't put Caerleon off his ideas of conquest. I suppose what bothered me most, though, was the queen - seeing her face as she stood over her husband's body. She was so consumed with grief and anger...just as I would be in her place..."

"That's not going to happen. You won't lose me, Morgana," Merlin said firmly. "What are you worried about?"

"Nothing specific; it's just that Arthur hasn't even been king for a month, and already he's running into trouble... It feels like an ill omen."

"It's not an omen, it's just one greedy man who shouldn't trouble us much longer."

Morgana shrugged and forced a smile. "I hope not. Now go - the sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back."

Merlin pulled her close - which was harder to do in the armor they were both currently wearing - and kissed her; she responded fairly enthusiastically, but he could still feel the tension in her. Then he vanished.

Left alone, Morgana sighed and ran her hands over her face, brushing back the tendrils that had escaped her hairpins, and wished she had put up a better cheerful facade for Merlin, or at least set aside her anxiety long enough to enjoy that kiss more. Try as she might, though, she simply couldn't shake the feeling that the jaws of some invisible trap were closing around her, around all of them.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she looked up to find Agravaine approaching; in the dim light cast by the single torch illuminating the hallway, she could just make out that longing, almost covetous expression he frequently wore when he looked at her. Deciding she was in no mood to deal with the tiresome infatuation of a man more than twice her age, she quickly turned and escaped into her own room, locking the door with both a key and an enchantment.

###

Merlin returned early the next morning, in the gray predawn hours, and made his way down to the garrison's prison cells with Arthur. Caerleon scowled when he saw them. "Come to take me to the chopping block, have you, boys?"

"Not at all, sire," Arthur replied with a grin. "We're taking you home."

###

The inhabitants of the royal palace in Caerleon's kingdom were just venturing outside to begin their day when an enormous golden dragon, his scales dazzlingly bright in the light of the rising sun, swooped down out of the clouds and landed in the courtyard. Amid the resulting commotion, Arthur called out to an older knight who was one of the only people not running around madly and screaming, though that may have been because he was paralyzed with shock. "Hello there! Would you be so kind as to tell your queen that King Arthur of Camelot and Prince Merlin of Dagon request an audience with her?"

The man stuttered something incoherent and stumbled away, and Queen Annis came out a few minutes later. Though visibly shaken by the sight of a living, breathing dragon standing right outside her castle, she managed to retain a modicum of composure as she addressed the dragon's riders. "What business do the king of Camelot and the crown prince of Dagon have with me?"

"Forgive the intrusion, your highness," Arthur said politely. "As you are no doubt aware, King Caerleon has strayed across the border into my lands, and we wanted to see that he got home safely. Kilgharrah, if you please..."

Kilgharrah stretched out his left foreleg, which he had been carefully holding aloft, and unclenched his talons, dropping the bound and gagged form of Caerleon at Annis' feet. She glanced down at her husband, who was struggling fiercely against his bindings, then back up at Arthur, speechless.

Arthur, on the other hand, had plenty to say, and although his tone was still courteous, there was a distinct edge of steel in it now. "We also wanted to remind you that Camelot has friends who will come to her aid if need be, and to give you a small taste of what you'll be facing if this invasion continues; after all, Kilgharrah is not the only dragon under King Balinor's command. I do not want war, Queen Annis, but I will tolerate no threats to my kingdom. King Caerleon must agree to withdraw his forces immediately and initiate no further hostilities against us."

"My wife told me you knew her father, Lord Gorlois," Merlin added. "He always spoke highly of your strength and wisdom, your majesty. We hope you can convince your husband that making peace with Arthur is the best course of action, otherwise...well, let's just say the alternative won't be pleasant."

Kilgharrah underscored Merlin's rather ominous statement by letting out a deafening roar that shook the ground under their feet and rattled the castle's windows.

"We'll return tomorrow to hear your king's decision," Arthur announced when everyone's ears had stopped ringing. "Until then, your majesty..." With that, Kilgharrah spread his wings and, with a single downward sweep that created gale-force winds within the confined space of the courtyard, launched them into the sky.

 **And that's how I would've solved Arthur's dispute with Caerleon. I have to admit I had a lot of fun writing that scene; nothing says 'shock and awe' like swooping in on a dragon, eh?**


	9. Harbingers

**Hope everyone has a great holiday season; here's an early present for you all.**

While he waited for Caerleon and Annis to decide whether there would be peace or war between them, Arthur turned his attention to the vital task of figuring out how Caerleon had been able to cross the border unchallenged in the first place. "Why," he demanded when the abandoned garrison's commander had been brought before him, "did you not wait for the next shift as I instructed? Whose bright idea was it to leave before your replacements arrived?"

"Yours, sire," was the knight's nervous reply.

"That's absurd," Arthur snapped.

"I have your orders here, sire." He held out a crumpled piece of paper.

Arthur snatched it out of his hand and scanned it, his expression changing from anger to bewilderment. "I didn't write this!"

"Pardon me, sire, but the seal was unbroken, and it appears to be written in your hand."

Morgana leaned over Arthur's shoulder to read the missive. "Yes, that's Arthur's handwriting - it looks like he dipped a chicken in ink and let it walk across the paper." Arthur scowled at her. "There's something odd about it, though..." She waved her hand over the letter, and the lines of ink shimmered and rearranged themselves. The first part, in which Arthur related that new troops were on their way, remained the same, but the ending changed. Instead of giving the soldiers currently at the garrison leave to return home at once, it now said they were to wait for their replacements to arrive; only then did they have permission to leave their post.

"There - those were the instructions I remember writing!" Arthur exclaimed. "How did this happen?"

"Magic, obviously," Merlin informed him, "but not just any magic. It would have taken someone powerful and clever to rewrite your orders without leaving any trace of their tampering."

"Perhaps it was one of the sorcerers who have been plaguing our outlying villages," Agravaine suggested.

"Yes, those troublesome phantom sorcerers no one has ever actually laid eyes on," Arthur sighed. "Still, it seems I do have at least one real enemy out there. They must have ambushed the courier on his way to the garrison."

"Pardon me, sire," the commander interjected. "The messenger appeared unscathed and never mentioned being attacked. I suppose someone with magic could have slipped into his camp while he slept, though."

"Possibly. Is there anything else you can tell me?" Upon receiving a negative response, Arthur said, "Then you're dismissed. I can see you did not intentionally neglect your duty, so there will be no punishment."

"Thank you, your majesty." The knight bowed deeply and hurried out before Arthur could change his mind.

Left alone with his trusted friends and advisors, Arthur slumped over the desk, burying his face in his hands. Gwen moved closer and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze he couldn't feel through his armor, though the gesture was appreciated nonetheless. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I know you've done your best to gain the sorcerers' trust-"

"But I'm still my father's son. Before the treaty with Dagon came into effect, I led the witch hunts on his orders and never once thought to question him. I was a fool to expect those who suffered under his rule to forgive and forget my part in it."

"You may be Uther's son, but you are _not_ him," Gwen said firmly. "Soon everyone will see that." She turned to Merlin and Morgana. "In the meantime, there must be some precautions we can take against further sabotage?"

"My father sometimes uses paper and ink that are enchanted so they can't be altered once his seal is affixed. It's rare, but maybe I can get some for Arthur," Merlin offered.

Unnoticed by everyone else, Agravaine scowled.

Arthur, on the other hand, was relieved. "That's one problem taken care of, then. Now, let's talk about the terms Merlin and I will present to Caerleon and Annis tomorrow."

"I've been thinking about that. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have another royal ally there to strengthen our position," Merlin suggested. "Lancelot, do you think you can persuade your fiancée to join us?"

"Not by tomorrow morning - Elena may be a skilled rider, but even she can't make it from the center of Camelot to the border in less than a day."

"She could on a dragon."

###

Kilgharrah wasn't thrilled about being asked to take Lancelot back to Camelot's capital to fetch Elena, protesting vehemently that he was not a horse, but after much cajoling from Merlin he finally agreed. At dawn the next day, Merlin, Morgana, Arthur, and Elena walked into Caerleon's castle - they had left Kilgharrah outside the gates this time as a sign of good faith - and were immediately ushered into the king's private audience chamber.

"Thank you for seeing us, your majesty," Arthur said respectfully, determined to start things off on a cordial note. Since this dispute was between Caerleon's kingdom and his, they had agreed that he would take the lead in these negotiations.

Caerleon let out a gruff bark of laughter. "Didn't have much choice, did I?" Although he wouldn't admit it, none of his hardened warriors were willing to set foot in Camelot after getting an eyeful of Kilgharrah, and his wife had spent most of the previous day haranguing him about how continuing his invasion would be both suicidal and stupid. "I'll say this, boy, you've got more guts than I thought," he added with a hint of grudging admiration. "Name your terms."

"My terms are the same as they were yesterday. Here, I've had a treaty drawn up." Arthur took out a scroll of the thick parchment used for official documents and placed it on the table.

Caerleon unrolled it and read the agreement written out in Geoffrey of Monmouth's elegant script, the creases in his brow slowly deepening into a frown. "There's no mention of my surrendering the province of Evorwick to you."

"My uncle was a bit overzealous in his demands; I will be satisfied with peace."

"And will that satisfy you and your dragonlord father as well?" the older king asked, turning a dubious look on Merlin.

"My father and I never had any quarrel with you," Merlin replied easily. "We'd prefer to keep it that way - that's why Arthur's scribe put in the guarantee of no reprisals or unprovoked aggression from Camelot's allies."

Caerleon still made no move to sign the parchment, and Arthur began to get impatient. "As soon as our agreement is finalized, I'll have the men who were captured with you released, unless you have other concerns about my terms?"

"I believe my husband is trying to figure out what sort of game you're playing," Annis spoke up, fixing Arthur with a shrewd stare. "Your willingness to forgive the invasion and seizure of your lands without demanding recompense is most unusual."

"It's not a game, your highness," Elena answered for him. "Gawant has been allied with Camelot for a long time, our ties with Dagon have recently grown stronger as well, and I can assure you that Arthur and Merlin are trustworthy. In all the time I've known them, I've never seen them to be anything other than fair, just, and honorable."

Her endorsement seemed to reassure the queen; she whispered something to Caerleon, who finally called for a pen and ink and scrawled his signature at the bottom of the scroll, then pushed it across the table to Arthur. "Your turn now - and I want your friend to sign it as well."

Arthur and Merlin did so, and Annis, Morgana, and Elena added their names as witnesses. "Thank you, King Caerleon. We'll be on our way now."

Annis threw a sharp look at her husband, prompting the king to say, "We haven't yet broken our fast - you're all welcome to stay and dine with us, b-...eh...King Arthur."

Arthur glanced around at the others, who nodded encouragingly. "Thank you for the invitation; we're happy to accept."

As they ate, Morgana and Annis shared their memories of Gorlois, including some stories of his youthful antics Morgana had never heard before. "Oh my...did he really think a frog was a suitable courting gift to give my mother?"

"Oh yes - in his defense, he was only nine years old at the time. Still, Vivienne cried for hours after he dropped that slimy thing in her lap. Uther was a bit older, so he explained to your father that girls like flowers better than frogs. He gave her a tulip, and that cheered her up."

The mention of Uther giving Vivienne a flower dampened Morgana's enjoyment of their reminiscences somewhat, making her wonder if the seeds of the ill-fated love triangle that had led to the birth of Morgause and ultimately to Vivienne's death had begun to take root as far back as the seemingly idyllic days of their childhood.

Annis seemed to guess what she was thinking, and quickly changed the subject. "Still, despite his youthful missteps, Gorlois grew into a fine man. He would be very proud of you, Morgana. You'll do great things as the queen of Dagon."

"I believe you've accomplished a greater feat today than any I'll ever manage - there's no doubt in my mind that you had a hand in King Caerleon's change of heart. I suspect it wasn't easy to talk him around."

"My husband is a proud, stubborn man," Annis admitted. "Much as I love him, I would be a fool not to acknowledge that. Still, he's a good man at heart, and willing to change when shown the error of his ways. I'm sure he's learned his lesson about taking advice from druids who arrive unbidden in the middle of the night, at any rate."

Morgana stiffened. "What druid?"

"Well, I assume he was a druid from the way he dressed; he came here shortly after Arthur's coronation, claiming to have valuable information. It was he who led my husband to the garrison on the border and assured him it would soon be left unguarded."

"That explains a great deal," Morgana said slowly. "Merlin and I had wondered how Caerleon organized his attack so quickly, as if he knew Camelot's border was vulnerable before Arthur did. Tell me, where is this druid now?"

Annis frowned, a hint of unease creeping into her expression. "He seems to have vanished. If he ever shows his face here again, I promise you he'll be thrown out on his ear."

Morgana forced a smile to hide the extent of her worry. "I doubt he will after he realizes your king won't be goaded into any more rash actions. Do you recall his name?"

"That I do. His name was Ruadan."

###

Arthur was very busy over the next three days what with overseeing the release of Caerleon's captured men, installing fresh troops in the garrison, getting the long, slow march back to the heart of Camelot underway, and arranging a company of soldiers to escort Elena and Lancelot when the time came for them to split off from the main group and head for Gawant; with all this going on, Morgana couldn't find an opportunity to tell him what she'd learned without the wrong people listening in. She did, however, confide in Merlin and Gwen as soon as they returned from parleying with Caerleon.

"This is wonderful, Morgana!" Gwen said enthusiastically. "Why haven't you told Arthur you've uncovered the name of the man who's been plotting against him? I know he has a lot to do right now, but he would definitely make time to hear this."

"I've uncovered the name of _one_ man who's been plotting against Arthur," Morgana corrected her. "I'm not convinced the conspiracy ends with this Ruadan. Spreading lies to poison the people against magic, orchestrating an invasion - it seems too complex to be the work of one druid, doesn't it?"

"Maybe he had help," Gwen suggested. "Don't druids typically travel in bands?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"But I don't think even a band of druids could've managed the spells that were used to set up this conflict with Caerleon," Merlin interjected, and Morgana shot him a grateful look, glad he was backing her up. "Like I told Arthur, the forgery was a very advanced, intricate enchantment - not the kind of magic druids usually practice. And that's not even taking into account how hard it would have been to take the letter from the courier and then put it back without waking him or his guards."

"It could be done, though, couldn't it?" Gwen pressed.

"It could, but there's a simpler explanation: the letter was passed to the forger before being sent off."

Gwen's eyes widened. "But that would mean-"

"There's a traitor in Camelot," Morgana finished grimly.

"This is terrible. Poor Arthur." It was bad enough that there were people working against him from the outside; a betrayal from someone he knew and trusted would be a devastating blow. "Do you have any idea who it could be?"

Merlin and Morgana glanced at each other, both hesitant to say the name on the tip of their tongues. "The most likely suspect would be the one Arthur entrusted with dispatching his orders after he wrote them," Merlin said instead.

"That would be Lord Agravaine." Gwen's expression darkened. "Accusing Arthur's uncle of treason is serious business, and Arthur won't want to believe it. He says Agravaine's advice has been invaluable to him in the years since Uther's health declined-"

"And isn't it strange how he never came to court that often while Uther was in charge, but as soon as he was out of the picture Agravaine didn't waste a moment in worming his way into Arthur's confidence?" Morgana asked.

"Maybe he just didn't get along with Uther, which is something you ought to be able to relate to - he was Queen Ygraine's brother, after all." Gwen sighed. "Look, I'm not especially fond of the man myself, but he is one of the last living relatives Arthur has, and that means a great deal to him, so I don't think you should question his uncle's loyalty without absolute proof. Why would Agravaine want to betray Arthur anyway? And how is he supposed to have ended up in league with a rebel sorcerer?"

Neither of them had an answer for that. Gwen shook her head. "You see? Even I'm not convinced, and persuading Arthur will be ten times harder."

As they watched her walk away, Merlin asked, "Do you think she's right? Are we being too quick to suspect Agravaine just because we don't like him?"

Morgana frowned pensively as she thought it over. It was true that she loathed being the object of his lecherous stares, but since he was a lord of the realm, there wasn't much she could do about it unless he actually did something inappropriate; a single instance of him holding on to her hand a little too long wasn't enough, so perhaps she was a bit too eager to believe him guilty of a crime that would send him to the chopping block.

"I still think he's our best suspect," she said at length. "Gwen is right, though - we need to investigate more thoroughly before we say anything to Arthur. We need to find out if anyone else - a servant, a guard - had possession of that letter for even a short while..."

"And I'd feel better if we could find some reason for Agravaine to do what we think he did," Merlin added. "But it'll have to wait; most of the people we need to talk to are back at the palace." Seeing Morgana grit her teeth in frustration, he circled behind her and dug his fingertips into her shoulders, trying to work the tension out of her muscles. "I'm sorry - I know how much you hate to hear this, but you'll have to be patient a while longer."

###

Unbeknownst to them, Mordred was in the next room with his ear pressed against the wall, eavesdropping with the aid of a spell that allowed him to hear through the thick stone barrier, at least until Merlin decided to give Morgana an impromptu massage. When their conversation shifted from espionage to such comments as, "Mmm, that feels good," and, "Yes, right there... _Harder_ ," he pulled back from the wall in horror and hurried off to tell Agravaine what he had overheard.

"So Morgana and Merlin suspect me? I can't say I'm surprised - she's as intelligent as she is beautiful, just like your mother..."

Mordred scowled; he'd never understood his guardian's attraction to the traitor, nor did he appreciate Agravaine comparing her to Morgause.

"...And her husband, despite all outward appearances, is not a complete idiot. Fortunately for us, Arthur is; as that upstart peasant girl pointed out, he will be loath to believe any accusations against me, which will make it easy to deflect his suspicions onto a servant, or perhaps even one of his trusted knights. Sir Leon was in the room when he handed off the dispatches to me..." Agravaine trailed off for a moment, absorbed in thoughts of how he might frame Leon for treason in his place, before recalling himself. "However, my foremost concern at the moment is Ruadan. Now that they know who he is, his usefulness is compromised."

"What can we do?" Mordred asked worriedly.

"If it comes to it, my lord, we may have to sacrifice him in order to convince Arthur his enemies are gone and give him a false sense of security."

"You want me to hand one of my people, a fellow sorcerer, over for execution?" Mordred had already accepted that he might have to kill a few who wrongly sided with Arthur, but sacrificing one of his own felt like a step too far.

"It's a terrible choice to have to make, but he is only one man, whose life you must weigh against the lives of everyone who is depending on you to restore magic to the land. Sometimes we must commit small sins in service of the greater good."

###

As it turned out, however, Mordred didn't have to worry about sacrificing his agent, because Merlin and Morgana never got a chance to investigate Agravaine. The day before they would have reached Camelot's capital city, a sorcerer appeared out of the forest they were about to leave behind and headed straight for Arthur, knocking out the knights who tried to stop him, including Leon. Before he got any closer, however, a nearby tree suddenly came alive, snaring him in its branches. Eyes widening in alarm, he looked up to see Arthur approaching, flanked by Gwen, who had her sword out, as well as Merlin, Morgana, and Mordred, who needed no swords to deal with one man. "Let me go!" he growled. "My business is with King Arthur!"

"Tell me your business, then," Arthur ordered. "Who are you? Why did you attack my men?"

"My name is Osgar. I was entrusted with a sacred mission and so could not allow them to stand in my way. If I fail to deliver the rune mark into your hands, I shall be cursed forever."

Frowning in bewilderment, Arthur turned to Merlin and whispered, "What's a rune mark? Should I take it?"

"It's an emblem marked with runes," Merlin whispered back. "It should be safe enough."

"Then you'd better let the man go so he can give it to me. I'd hate to cause anyone to be cursed forever."

Freed from the tree's grasp, Osgar stumbled forward and pressed a medallion with strange markings etched around its edges into Arthur's palm. "Heed the warning, Arthur; it is not too late to redeem yourself. No further chance will be given." With those cryptic words, he turned and melted away into the trees.

Arthur started to go after him, but Mordred grabbed his arm. "What reason do you have for pursuing that man? He did you no harm!"

"He assaulted my knights."

"They're only unconscious," Mordred said dismissively. "They'll be fine. Or will you take advantage of any justification, no matter how slight, to slaughter every sorcerer who crosses your path?"

"He has a point," Gwen chimed in before Arthur could reply. "You said you wanted to earn the trust of those who practice magic, to show them you are not Uther. It would probably help if you refrained from killing anyone who doesn't pose an immediate threat."

Arthur agreed and let Excalibur slip back into its scabbard. Osgar was probably long gone by now anyway. "I wish I knew the meaning of that nonsense he was spouting, though." He held out the rune mark for inspection. "Can any of you make sense of this?"

Merlin and Morgana examined it closely, and Arthur could tell from their faces that it wasn't good news. "What's wrong? You two look even paler than usual."

At first it seemed like they hadn't heard him, but then Morgana slowly lifted her eyes from the rune mark, fixing him with a somber look that sent a wave of foreboding through him. "You've been summoned by the court of the Disir."

 **Darn, they were so close to busting Agravaine. Sorry for the relative lack of action here; it looks like this story might be kinda heavy on the politics and intrigue, which is probably a sign that I read too much Sword of Truth and watched too much Game of Thrones while planning it out. Unfortunately, uniting Albion will probably take a lot of negotiating with people like Caerleon.**


	10. Fate's Right Hand

**Sorry for not getting this posted sooner; I thought I'd finish it last week...then Nimueh showed up to dispense more cryptic advice and warnings, and this ended up being SoD's first chapter with more than 4000 words.**

Arthur turned his eyes from Morgana to Merlin and Mordred, who both wore equally grave expressions, to Gwen, who looked as baffled as he felt. "I see... Can someone please tell me who or what these Disir are?"

"The Disir are three women who have been trained from birth to interpret the word of the Triple Goddess," Merlin explained. "Together, they're the Old Religion's final arbiters of justice."

"I thought that was the High Priestess' job?"

Morgana shook her head. "The priestesses provide spiritual guidance to the people, while the Disir deal with matters of law."

"Still, if they're a court of the Old Religion, what right do they have to pass judgment on Arthur?" Gwen demanded indignantly. "He doesn't follow the Goddess!"

"Just because people have begun turning their backs on the old ways, it doesn't mean the ancient magics have faded from the world," Mordred snapped. "It's said the Disir have power over the fates of those they judge, and no one is above their authority, not even a king."

Morgana nodded in agreement, while Gwen still appeared doubtful.

"Merlin, you don't believe any of this, do you?" Arthur asked, looking to his best friend for support. "Haven't you always said a man's fate is in his own hands?"

Merlin didn't give him the reassurance he sought; in fact, he looked far too worried for Arthur's liking. "You know I don't believe fate is some inexorable mystical force," he said slowly, "but as for the Disir having the power to change it... Well, if I cursed you into oblivion right now, you could say I changed your fate, couldn't you?"

Arthur's eyes widened. "Are you saying these women could put a curse on me if I don't answer their summons?"

"They have their own brand of magic, which I've been told is very strong, even deadly. I wouldn't ignore them if I were you."

Morgana breathed a quiet sigh of relief, grateful that for once Merlin had decided to set aside his defiant streak and be reasonable.

Arthur also sighed, though his was one of resignation rather than relief. "I guess I'd better go to them and find out what they want, then. I don't suppose any of you know where to find them?"

Naturally, all three sorcerers did. Since they were so close to home, Arthur decided to let his army go on and make the trip with just the four of them for backup, which allowed them to travel by magic. An hour later, they were in the foothills of the White Mountains, standing outside the cave which contained the Disir's sacred pool. Merlin, Morgana, and Mordred immediately divested themselves of all their weapons, advising Arthur and Gwen to do the same.

"Try not to touch anything inside the cave," Merlin added. "Be _especially_ careful not to break anything."

"All right, all right, I get the point," Arthur grumbled. "Do I have to curtsey as well?"

"And show more respect," Morgana admonished him. "Coming off as arrogant won't help your case."

Arthur gave her a slightly exasperated look but adopted a more serious mien. Fully disarmed, the five made their way into the cave, taking care not to disturb anything. Evidently they were expected; the Disir were grouped around their sacred pool, facing the cave's entrance as if waiting for them. All three wore black robes with hoods that cast all but the lower part of their faces into shadow, an effect Arthur found unsettling - he wished he could look into the eyes of these women who supposedly held his fate in their hands.

"Greetings, Disir. I assume you know who I am?"

The one who stood at the head of their formation nodded. "You are known to us, Arthur Pendragon."

"You have always been known," the one who stood slightly behind and to her right added.

"Since before your birth," the third, youngest one concluded.

Their way of speaking was nearly as disconcerting as their hidden faces, but Arthur refused to be intimidated. "I've come to learn the meaning of this," he announced, holding up the rune mark.

"It is both your judgment and your fate."

"You have been judged by our court-"

"-And found wanting."

"How could he have been found wanting?" Gwen challenged, glaring at the Disir. "He is a good king, a strong and compassionate leader."

"So much is true," the eldest Disir conceded. "Yet he has denied our faith-"

"-Persecuted its followers-"

"-Even unto slaughter!"

Arthur bowed his head in shame. "I know of what you speak, and I'm sorry. I was wrong not to question my father's views sooner-"

"It takes a wise man to admit his mistakes-"

"-But acknowledging your past wrongdoing is not enough."

"You must do more to redress the damage you and your father have wrought."

"What must I do?" Arthur asked with some trepidation; the Disir did not seem like the types to assign an easy penance.

"Bow to the Goddess."

"Learn Her ways."

Before the third Disir could add her two shillings' worth, Merlin broke in. "Hold on. Arthur is prepared to lift the ban on magic in Camelot once the people are ready to accept it, but what you're asking him to do would require him to convert to the Old Religion himself."

As one, the Disir's heads swiveled, their hidden eyes locking onto him. "The _Old_ Religion, Emrys?"

"There was a time when there was but one religion, when all were united under the Triple Goddess-"

"-Until heretics such as Uther Pendragon turned their backs on the true faith."

"The Goddess will not stand for such insults any longer!"

This time, it was Morgana who spoke up. "You understand why some prefer the new ways, don't you? Our religion is centered around the practice of magic, which all too often leads to those without the gift being treated as inferior."

"Magic is the fabric of this world, girl," the head Disir said sternly.

"Of course the Goddess favors those with the strength of will and clarity of mind to harness its powers."

"As the future High Priestess, you ought to know that."

Morgana shook her head. "I know the three of you were chosen at birth and raised by your predecessors, apart from the outside world, but I was raised among those without magic; I've seen firsthand that they are no better or worse than us, and they don't deserve to be persecuted any more than we do."

"That's the world Merlin and I intend to build - one where everyone is treated equally, regardless of what special talents they were or were not born with. I will allow magic back into Camelot as soon as it's politically viable, and I would never ask my friends here, or any other sorcerer, to give up their beliefs, but I will not embrace the Old Religion myself," Arthur said firmly.

"And he shouldn't have to," Merlin added. "Even in Dagon, my father and I have never required all our subjects to follow our religion, and we never will."

The Disir who usually spoke first seemed to have been rendered speechless by that pronouncement, but her sisters quickly stepped in. "You would deny the natural superiority of our people? Subvert the will of the Goddess?" the second Disir demanded.

"Who are you to defy destiny in this way?" the third one practically shrieked at him.

Merlin drew himself up to his full height, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I am Emrys, and I make my own destiny."

At that, the head Disir found her voice again. "Not while you persist in disavowing your true self! Until you fully embrace the great power the Goddess has granted you, you are merely a mortal like any other, and _you will obey us_!"

"No. You may have spent your lives interpreting the word of the Goddess, but you're only human too, and right now I think your interpretation of Her word is influenced by your pride. You want to see a resurgence of the old ways so you will be revered as you once were, do you not?"

Beside herself with rage, the Disir snatched up a wooden staff with a wickedly sharp point and hurled it at Merlin.

Up to that point, Mordred had been standing quietly off to the side, watching the proceedings unfold with a steadily mounting sense of foreboding. At first, he had hoped the Disir might be able to make Arthur see the error of his ways, even though he should have known better. He wasn't sure why Gwen was there - she wasn't one of them, nor was she included in the rune mark's summons - but he knew bringing her along had been a mistake as soon as she opened her mouth and questioned the Disir's right to judge Arthur - her, a mere peasant girl without a drop of magical blood in her veins! As if her insolence wasn't bad enough, then Merlin and Morgana, who should have been taught to respect the old ways, had gotten in on it as well, leaving Mordred appalled and outraged as they laid out their plans for a new world order.

When the Disir's leader attacked Merlin, however, he sprang into action; Merlin might be totally misguided - which Mordred attributed to Morgana, who might be a sorceress yet by her own admission had not been raised as one should be, filling his head with nonsense - but Mordred wasn't going to let him die simply for the crime of listening to the wrong people. He threw himself in front of Merlin without a second's hesitation...and the staff struck him in the chest, piercing his chainmail and sending him crumpling to the ground in a senseless heap.

Merlin's eyes darted down to Mordred's unconscious form, then hardened as he looked back at the Disir just in time to see the third one throwing another spear-like staff at him. With a flick of his wrist, the wooden missile reversed course in midair, forcing the Disir to duck and scatter in order to avoid being skewered by their own weapon. "How dare you?! Your judgment was against Arthur, not Mordred or myself, yet you attack us? You've overstepped your bounds, Disir!"

His fingertips glowed as he prepared to cast some sort of retaliatory spell, but Morgana seized him by the wrist, forcing his hand down. "No, Merlin! This is not the time for a fight - we need to get out of here and see to Mordred's wound!" As Merlin reluctantly let his arm drop back to his side, she shot a burning glare over her shoulder at the three Disir, who had regrouped and were watching them warily. "He is right, though - you have no right to attack those the Goddess has not judged guilty. Perhaps you should rethink whether it is truly Her path you follow, or if you have abandoned Her will for your own selfish desires."

Merlin and Arthur each put one of Mordred's arms around their shoulders and lifted him up, but before they could carry him out of the cave, one of the Disir called out, "Hold, Arthur Pendragon! If you would change your fate-"

"-If you would save all you hold dear-"

"-Reconsider your decision. Bow to the Goddess."

"You have three days to make your choice."

"This is your final warning. Fail to heed it, and all will be lost."

Arthur's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"They're obviously trying to frighten you," Gwen said impatiently. "Come on, Arthur, let's not listen to any more of this rubbish." Tugging on the arm not wrapped around Mordred, she marched him away.

Once they were outside the cave, they laid Mordred down, and Merlin melted away part of his mail shirt in order to get a better look at where the Disir's staff had pierced him, discovering that the sharp point had broken off and was still embedded in Mordred's upper torso. Summoning his knife from their pile of discarded weapons, Merlin used it to cut out the wooden barb, then cast the healing spell he normally used on flesh wounds...and nothing happened. He repeated the incantation, more forcefully this time, but still his spell failed to do so much as slow the bleeding.

"Why isn't it working?" Arthur asked anxiously.

"I don't know! Here, Morgana, you try - you have more of a natural aptitude for healing magic than I do."

She shot him a dubious look - aptitude or not, she was nowhere near as powerful as him, so she doubted she would be able to succeed where he had failed - but tried anyway, only for her attempt to prove equally ineffective. "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do. He needs a real physician; we should take him to Gaius."

###

Gaius was badly startled when the five of them appeared out of thin air in his infirmary, but his professionalism quickly took over; he directed them to put Mordred on the patient's cot, barked out a series of questions, then spent several minutes examining Mordred's wound and taking his vitals, his expression growing bleaker by the second.

At last, the suspense became too much to bear. "Well?" Merlin demanded.

Gaius sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, my lord, I fear this wound is beyond my skills."

"But you're the best healer in the kingdom!" Arthur protested. "There must be something you can do!"

The old man shook his head. "This is no ordinary injury, sire; there is magic involved, and it is like nothing I've ever seen, which doesn't surprise me since you said it was the Disir who cursed him. According to what I have read about the Disir, only they have the power to counteract their own sorcery."

The four friends exchanged dismayed looks, but it was Merlin who voiced what they were all thinking. "Well, that's going to be a problem."

"Maybe not," Arthur said slowly, with the air of a man grasping at straws to keep himself from plunging off a cliff. "Just before we left, they offered me one last chance - they said I could still change fate if I agreed to their demands within three days."

"And you believe they were offering to spare Mordred's life in return?" Morgana queried, arching her eyebrows in a way that seemed to indicate some skepticism.

"Well, what else could they have meant?"

"I don't know, but you must be careful in dealing with people like the Disir. They didn't explicitly say Mordred would live if you became a follower of the Old Religion, did they? They talked about changing your fate, saving all you hold dear... Mordred isn't _all_ you hold dear, is he?"

"Well, no, but he is the only person I care about whose life is in danger, and he's my kin; my fate is bound to his. This is the only explanation that makes sense," Arthur insisted.

"All right," Gwen interjected before Morgana could continue the argument, "let's assume you're right, and the Disir were offering to let Mordred live in exchange for your submission. Is that a trade you're willing to make?"

Arthur froze, his hopeful expression fading; caught up in his relief at finding a way to help Mordred, he hadn't stopped to consider what it would cost him. "Do I have a choice?" he asked, sounding much more subdued than he had a moment ago. "If I refuse, I'm condemning my nephew to death."

"And if you give in to the Disir's demands, you could be condemning all of Camelot. You said yourself that the people are not ready to accept magic," Gwen reminded him.

At that, Arthur's crestfallen demeanor gave way to outright worry. "That's true; if I announce tomorrow that I'm lifting all restrictions on the practice of sorcery in Camelot, I fear it would tear the kingdom apart."

Gwen nodded. "Now imagine how your people would react if you also converted to the Old Religion; Morgana was right when she said there are many who don't want to return to the days when those with magic lorded over them unchecked. We've discussed this many times over the last five years, all four of us, and we agreed that the only way to achieve peace and harmony in Albion is if we rule it equitably, in balance - Merlin and Morgana are the magic, so you and I must be the voice for the ordinary folk...which we cannot do if you allow the Disir to have authority over you."

"It won't end with them, either," Morgana added. "If it becomes known that you're susceptible to blackmail, every unscrupulous person who wants something from you will attempt it. You'll be hanging a target on the backs of everyone you care about, and losing the faith of your subjects at the same time. How are Camelot's people supposed to trust a king who can be compelled to act against their best interests any time someone he loves is at risk?"

"You're right, both of you; I know it, and yet..." Arthur cast an anguished look at Mordred. "How can I knowingly sacrifice the life of an innocent boy?"

Gaius had remained at Mordred's bedside the entire time, listening to the future rulers of Albion debate the fate of the world, but now he decided it was time to speak up. "If I may, sire, I would like to offer you some advice."

"Of course, Gaius. I've always valued your counsel."

"Your father had many faults, but he always understood that his duty to Camelot had to come before all else, including his own wishes. That is why he refused to acknowledge Morgause, even though turning his back on his daughter grieved him more than you ever knew."

"So you think I should do what my father would have done." Beginning to feel as if he was being backed into a corner, Arthur turned to the only person who had yet to offer an opinion, who was still staring at Mordred, apparently lost in thought. Arthur just hoped that brilliant mind of his was working on a better solution than the one Gwen, Morgana, and Gaius had proposed. "What do you think, Merlin?"

"Gwen and Morgana are right - giving in to the Disir is out of the question, but they gave you three days to decide, so we can use that time to find another way of saving him."

"Did you not hear what I said before, my lord?" Gaius asked. "Only the Disir-"

"I heard you, but if we could just understand how their magic works, I'm sure Morgana and I could reverse it. We'll ask Nimueh - maybe she knows more about the Disir than we do."

"Excellent plan, Merlin," Arthur said with obvious relief. "You know, this is the second good idea you've had this month - if you keep it up, I may have to reconsider calling you an idiot."

###

Merlin and Morgana traveled by magic to the Lake of Avalon, then crossed the water in a small boat with no oars or sail, which was the only way of getting to the Isle of the Blessed. As always, the boat seemed to know exactly where they needed to go; this time it took them farther inland than usual, into the preternaturally clear pool directly in front of the entrance to the main temple, where Nimueh stood waiting for them.

"So, you and your friends have run afoul of the Disir," she stated as they climbed out of the boat. "And to think, Merlin, you were the one warning the young Pendragon to avoid provoking them. Now I imagine you've come to seek my help in healing that reckless boy who threw himself in the path of a blow meant for you."

"You're as omniscient as ever, my lady. So, can you help us? This boy isn't just a friend, he's also Morgana and Arthur's nephew."

Nimueh's countenance darkened. "That would make him the son of Morgause. Are you certain saving him is wise?"

"Why is everyone so eager to judge Mordred for his mother's crimes?" Merlin asked impatiently. "He's done nothing to warrant such treatment; in fact, as you just said, he saved me. I would not see him lose his life for it."

"If his life means so much to you, there is one way you can ensure his survival. Shall I fetch the Cup of Life?"

Morgana froze, her eyes wide with apprehension, and only relaxed when Merlin grimaced and shook his head. "No. As much as I want Mordred to live, I won't sacrifice another life for his. I had hoped you might know some other way of curing him."

"I can show you all the writings concerning the Disir we have here in the temple, but I cannot say if they will help you. The Old Religion has many separate branches, as you know; enforcing the laws of the mortal realm is the Disir's domain, and the Goddess has granted them certain powers to do so that even those of my order do not possess, or fully understand."

"I appreciate it all the same."

Nimueh summoned a young novice to take Merlin to the temple archives and gather the texts he needed, then pulled Morgana aside for a private conversation.

"You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."

"I can still keep up appearances," the High Priestess said dryly, "but we have more important things to discuss. Tell me, Morgana, did Merlin truly turn the Disir's weapon back on them?"

"Yes."

Nimueh drew in a sharp breath. "I thought my Sight was deceiving me... He should not have been able to do that. No magic or mortal weapon can halt the instrument of the Disir's judgment; that is why they are said to control fate. It seems his powers are growing, and I do not believe it is coincidence that it's happening now - I warned you before that dark times are on the horizon, and it is clear that Merlin will play a vital part in the great trial of Albion. I think soon he will have no choice but to become all that he is meant to be. Frankly, I don't understand why he has resisted this long."

"He doesn't want even more power than he already has, or immortality - he's afraid it would change him, that he might lose himself...that he might not be the man I love anymore." Morgana's voice broke at the end as she struggled to hold back the tears forming behind her eyes.

"I see." Nimueh's face momentarily softened into a rare look of genuine sympathy before slipping back into the serene mask of the High Priestess. "Still, the Goddess must have had a reason for creating Emrys, and you may need his powers if you are to truly unite Albion and defeat the dark forces that conspire against you."

"What dark forces?" Morgana asked, her heartbeat quickening. "Do you mean the Disir?"

"Perhaps, although I doubt they are the only ones who will oppose you; there are many who wish to cling to the old ways. Tell me, Morgana, why was it only Merlin who spoke of wanting to save the boy, Mordred, when he is not Merlin's kin but yours?"

Morgana blinked at her, taken aback by the apparent non sequitur. "I don't know - Merlin simply took to him more than I - but why do you ask? Wait... Are you implying that _Mordred_ is part of the forces opposing us? Has the Crystal of Neahtid shown you something about him?"

Nimueh shook her head, a slight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No - I never saw him until today, when I watched how the Disir judged King Arthur, and I did not know who he was, nor did I know Morgause had a son until Merlin told me just now. It's as if he's been hidden from my Sight all these years."

"He's never appeared in my visions either. Maybe he's under some sort of protective enchantment, but why?"

"If Morgause saw fit to provide him with such protection, you can be sure she had some nefarious purpose in mind." Nimueh glanced down the corridor, as if to check that Merlin was safely out of earshot, and lowered her voice. "Perhaps it would be for the best if Merlin's current endeavor does not succeed."

"Are you suggesting I should sabotage his efforts to save Mordred? I won't do that," Morgana said vehemently. "I may find the boy's mannerisms a bit off-putting, but I don't want him dead. Besides, Merlin has grown attached to him; he'll be devastated if Mordred dies."

"Yet somehow, I doubt you would feel the same," Nimueh replied with one of those maddeningly knowing looks she carried off so well.

Morgana merely huffed at her and stalked off to join Merlin in the library...yet she couldn't deny that her mentor wasn't entirely wrong.

###

In the end, Nimueh and Morgana didn't need to sabotage Merlin; the temple held no useful information on how the Disir cursed their victims or how such a curse might be lifted without their assistance.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Morgana said as the sun set on their third day of fruitless research. "Our time is up; the Disir expect Arthur's answer at daybreak. You do still want him to refuse, don't you?" She held her breath as she waited for his answer, wondering if Merlin's resolve would waver now that the moment of truth had arrived.

"No, I don't want him to...but I know he must. For Albion, this is the right thing to do."

Morgana reached across the little table where they had spent the last three days poring over ancient texts and obscure writings and took both his hands in hers, hoping her touch might give him some small measure of comfort. "Not many men would be able to make such a sacrifice...but then that's the difference between a man and a king. Come - we need to prepare Arthur and Gwen."

Merlin shook his head. "You go. I'm going to stay here and keep looking. There might still be something here that can save him - I just haven't looked in the right place yet..."

"Merlin-"

"I'm not giving up on him, Morgana! Until the Disir carry out their sentence, I'm not giving up."

Morgana sighed and squeezed his hands once more before gently untangling their intertwined fingers. "I suppose if you did, you wouldn't be who you are. I truly am sorry, my love."

###

When she returned to Camelot, one look at her face – coupled with the lack of improvement in Mordred's condition – was all Arthur and Gwen needed to let them know she and Merlin had been unsuccessful. "I'm sorry, Arthur," she said sadly, once again unsure if she was apologizing for her failure or her complicated feelings about the situation. "We tried our best."

Arthur pulled her into a crushing embrace. "I know you did, but we always knew it was a long shot. Merlin still hasn't given up, I suppose?" When Morgana shook her head, he sighed and said, "I feel for him; he really seemed to care for Mordred. Do you want to say goodbye to him?"

After a second's hesitation, Morgana nodded - it seemed like the least she could do. Arthur and Gwen left the infirmary, where they had been keeping vigil on what seemed like it would be the last night of Mordred's life, and she tiptoed over to the cot where he lay, pale and soaked in cold sweat. Despite the coolness between them, she felt a pang of sadness at seeing him like that.

Perching on the edge of his sickbed, she took hold of his hand and reached out to him via thought-speak, hoping she might get through to him that way even if he was beyond hearing spoken words. _Mordred? I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, I want you to know how sorry we all are that it's come to this, and that Merlin and I did everything we could to save you. And...I'm sorry if I let my feelings toward Morgause affect the way I felt about you. Maybe I judged you unfairly because you reminded me so much of her... Still, I never wanted anything like this to happen. Safe journey to Avalon, Mordred; I pray that the Goddess will watch over you._ A tear trickled down her cheek and fell onto Mordred's face as she bent down to kiss his forehead, a gesture that was both a personal farewell and a routine blessing from the future High Priestess to one of her own.

He stirred ever so slightly at her touch, his eyelids opening infinitesimally. Morgana gasped and drew back sharply - Mordred's eyes, which were supposed to be brown like those of his parents, had turned a deep blue.

 **Aaaaand cue the suspenseful music!**

 **I toyed with the idea of having the Disir episode turn out differently here, but ultimately I decided Arthur still has to say no, because they went too far asking him to convert, plus there are some very good reasons for him not to cave that I wish the show had brought up instead of just having Merlin give him the worst advice in the entire history of the series. And it didn't even accomplish what he wanted...!**


	11. The Reckoning

**I know it's been a while, but do you guys remember when I said this story would have some depressing parts that might be difficult to read? Well...this is where I'm going to start making good on that warning, so let me preemptively apologize to all the Mergana fans out there...**

"Are you all right, my lady?"

Startled, Morgana looked up to see Gaius poking his head around the partial wall separating his sleeping quarters from his workspace. "Yes, I'm fine, I just thought I saw-" She glanced down at Mordred, but he was perfectly still now, his eyes closed. "But I suppose it was merely a trick of the light. I'm sorry for disturbing you."

Rising from Mordred's bedside, she hurried out of the infirmary. Her feet automatically carried her to hers and Merlin's guest chamber, but she didn't go near the bed since she already knew she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. Instead she paced the length of the room, trying desperately to convince herself that what she'd seen really was nothing more than an illusion. After all, she had only caught the barest glimpse of Mordred's irises just now; there were plenty of prior occasions when she'd seen his eyes more clearly, and they had always been brown...

 _...Unless he's been using a glamor all this time - of course he wouldn't be able to maintain it now, when he's barely clinging to life. The real question, then, is how he came to have blue eyes in the first place, when Morgause and Cenred were both brown-eyed...assuming Cenred was actually Mordred's father. Morgause certainly didn't love him, and with him completely under her control I suppose she had little incentive to be faithful to her puppet of a husband._

She paused in the middle of her circuit, wringing her hands in consternation. _On the other hand, why would she have an affair? I suppose she might have desired someone else, but Morgause hardly struck me as the type to succumb to passion when it would have benefitted her more to produce a legitimate heir to the Escetian throne…although she might have viewed a legitimate heir as a threat to her hold on the kingdom. Still, I can't imagine her willingly giving birth to a bastard unless she somehow stood to gain from it...unless she thought some other man could give her a better heir than Cenred could..._

Something stirred in her memory then, the same recollection of her final confrontation with her half-sister that had haunted her nightmares countless times in the past five years, but Morgana banished it immediately; the path her mind was trying to take her down was illogical, impossible, unthinkable - not to mention irrelevant. What did the truth of Mordred's origins matter now, when he would be dead by sunrise?

Nevertheless, she was relieved when the sky outside her window lightened and a knock on her door forced her thoughts out of their downward spiral. Arthur and Gwen were outside, grim-faced, with shadows under their eyes to match her own. There were no pleasantries exchanged between them, no queries as to how she had passed the night - which was just as well, since she didn't want to explain that the reasons for her restlessness were very different from theirs - just two words, spoken by Arthur in a tone of gloomy finality.

"It's time."

###

They entered the Disir's cave to find the three women standing in the exact same places as before, as if they hadn't moved at all in the past three days.

"So, the great King Arthur returns."

"Have you considered our warning, and the chance at salvation we offered?"

"Yes, I have."

"And?" the head Disir hissed impatiently. "What is your decision?"

Arthur drew in a deep breath, steeling himself to speak the words that would seal his nephew's death sentence. "I cannot do as you ask. I will not force the people to accept magic before they are ready, I will not place sorcerers above those without magic, and I will not convert to the Old Religion, nor will I require anyone else to do so against their wishes."

"Very well," came the cold reply from the shadows under the woman's hood. "You have made your choice-"

"-Sealed your fate-"

"-And that of your kingdom."

"Farewell, Arthur Pendragon," the Disir said in unison.

Arthur walked away without another word, his back ramrod-straight, his face a mask of stern resolve; only when he was outside the cave, well out of sight and earshot of the Disir, did he let his sadness show.

"You did the right thing, Arthur," Gwen said bracingly.

"I know, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"Doing the right thing is hardly ever easy."

"Can we go back now?" Morgana asked anxiously. "Merlin must know by now that…that it's over, and I don't want him to be alone."

###

They arrived in the courtyard at the same time as Merlin, but before Morgana could go to him, Mordred appeared at the castle's front entrance, very much alive. The four of them stood there, frozen in shock, as he made his way down the wide stone steps; then, when he reached the bottom, Merlin and Arthur crowded around him, both expressing their happiness at his recovery.

"I knew you'd come through, Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, slapping the warlock on the back.

"I didn't do anything, though," Merlin protested. "I'm sorry, Mordred - I swear I tried, but I couldn't find a way to undo the Disir's curse."

"Perhaps you simply willed me to live, somehow," Mordred suggested.

Merlin looked rather unnerved at the idea. "I don't have that kind of power…do I?"

Morgana was unnerved too, but for a different reason; she was fairly certain Merlin didn't have the power to alter fate's course simply by willing it...which meant there was some other force at work. As she recalled the Disir's parting words about how Arthur had sealed his fate and Camelot's, she was gripped by a chilling suspicion that they'd had it backward all along - that Mordred's survival, not his death, was Arthur's punishment for refusing the Disir's demands.

With him and Merlin still fussing over Mordred as the group headed inside for breakfast, only Gwen noticed Morgana attempting to slip away. "Where are you going? Aren't you hungry?"

"Not at the moment," she replied with a forced smile. "I'll get something to eat later; right now I have other matters to attend to."

There was no avoiding it any longer - whatever secrets Mordred was hiding, she was beginning to think uncovering them might literally be a matter of life and death.

###

Once again, Nimueh seemed to be expecting her. "Back so soon, Morgana? I was under the impression that you were a bit put out with me after I suggested that you allow your nephew to die."

"Even if I had taken your advice, it would have made no difference. Arthur rejected the Disir's terms; we all thought that would mean Mordred's death, yet we returned to find him miraculously recovered," Morgana explained in a rush.

Her mentor's ice-blue eyes widened. "Indeed? The Disir must have cured him, then...which makes no sense if they were using him to force Arthur's hand and their ploy failed."

"Unless you were right when you suggested Mordred might be a danger to us," Morgana said quietly. "What's more, I now have reason to believe King Cenred was not really his father, and that whatever threat he poses is somehow tied to the secret of his true parentage."

Nimueh sighed. "It's not often that I regret being proven right, but in this case I wish I had been mistaken. There are spells which can divine the boy's lineage, though they require his blood-"

"I have that," Morgana interrupted. Reaching into a pouch at her belt, she pulled out a wad of bandages Gaius had used to bind Mordred's wound. "I took these from the infirmary before Gaius could dispose of them. The blood may be dry by now, though."

"No matter, it will still serve our purposes well enough. Well done, Morgana. Come."

At first their route was familiar to her, but then Nimueh took an unexpected turn, away from the part of the temple where they usually met for training, and led her into a wing she'd never visited before. "Where are we going?"

"I have a chamber in my quarters which I use for private rituals."

"Oh." Morgana had never been inside Nimueh's inner sanctum before; in fact, she suspected that very few people had. She didn't have much time to look around, though, as Nimueh quickly ushered her into a small room adjacent to her bedchamber and began gathering the items she needed to unravel whatever secrets Mordred's blood held.

It was a complicated procedure, involving mixing the blood (which first had to be transmuted back into its liquid form) with a number of potions (some of which had to be brewed first, since they weren't all things Nimueh routinely kept on hand); then they had to cast a series of long, complex spells in order to interpret the meaning of the chemical reactions. By the time they completed the final incantation, both sorceresses were feeling rather drained, although Nimueh seemed to have something more than simple fatigue weighing on her.

"You were right, Morgana - Cenred was not Mordred's father. It's worse than we feared, though; the boy was born of dark magic. Morgause brought him into being using the blood of another man - blood which was not given willingly, which makes it even worse."

"Whose blood?" Morgana asked in a faint, shaky voice - or perhaps it only sounded faint in comparison to her own blood pounding in her ears. "Were you able to glean that from the ritual?"

"Yes," Nimueh replied with obvious reluctance. "I know this will be hard for you to hear-"

"No! I can see in your eyes what you're about to say, and it's impossible! Merlin-" She broke off, unable to finish whatever she had been about to say. "All the trouble with Morgause only happened five years ago," she said instead, "and Mordred is much older than that."

Nimueh shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid not; his blood also held traces of an aging potion. Of course, I can't be certain of the exact dose he received..."

A change came over Morgana when she was confronted with this final piece of evidence; her air of desperate denial gave way to resignation, and when she spoke again, her voice was deadly calm. "I can. It all makes perfect sense now... I think I knew the truth the moment I saw his blue eyes, even though I fought so hard to deny it. I can think of only one reason why Morgause would have been willing to go to such lengths to have a child - she knew of the prophecy about the wicked son Merlin would have, and she was bent on fulfilling it so she could turn the child's powers to her own purposes. I should have known she wouldn't have given up so easily once she realized she couldn't use me to breed her perfect weapon." She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Morgause was nothing if not determined, and she certainly had plenty of opportunities to steal Merlin's blood while he was her prisoner."

"I'm so sorry, Morgana." Reaching across the table where they had been working, Nimueh patted her hand in a slightly awkward attempt at offering comfort. "I can only imagine how this must hurt you, but you mustn't be angry with Merlin. You know he would never willingly betray you, and it's not as if he slept with your sister."

"Thank the Goddess for that!" Morgana said fervently. "I know he isn't to blame for this, any more than he was when Morgause forced him to help her create her army of the undead - I told him then that he wasn't responsible for anything he did while under her control, and this is no different. I'm only angry with _her_ for doing this to him...and to me. How am I supposed to live with this...and what am I to do about it? Merlin needs to know the truth - everyone does, because if Mordred is the child from the prophecy he's a threat to us all - but how can I tell them? They're all so fond of him..."

"I'm afraid I can't help you there, but I will give you one piece of advice: tread carefully. There is a reason why the enchantments Morgause used to create her son are considered dark. In the past, children born of that magic suffered from certain…deformities…"

"Not Mordred; he's perfectly healthy."

"Not all deformities are physical, Morgana," Nimueh said delicately. "Aberrations of the mind and soul can be much harder to spot – and far more dangerous."

Morgana swallowed hard, forcing down the apprehension the older sorceress' words stirred within her; whatever else he might be, Mordred was still just a boy - and an even younger one than he appeared to be at that. Surely she and Merlin could handle him. "I'll keep that in mind."

###

Unbeknownst to Morgana, Mordred had not sat idle while she and Nimueh investigated him. Although the Disir's curse had rendered him unable to move or speak, he had been aware of everything that went on around him, heard every word spoken over his sickbed...and knew that Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, Gaius, and even Merlin had steadfastly refused to do the right thing and reinstate the legally sanctioned practice of sorcery in Camelot, even when it seemed as if their stubbornness would cost him his life.

At least Merlin had tried to save him, which lessened Mordred's disappointment in him to some extent. The others, however, had been perfectly willing to let him die until Merlin suggested an alternative solution - oh, Arthur had bleated about his moral qualms, but he hadn't even attempted to do anything about it, just stood around wringing his hands and asking everyone else for advice, like the spineless idiot he was - while Gaius and the women had actively encouraged him to sacrifice Mordred in order to advance their despotic agenda. They would answer for that, all of them, but he was in no hurry to deal with Gaius and Gwen. Morgana, on the other hand...

In addition to her role in trying to bring about his death, she almost certainly knew his secret now; he had only a vague memory of her visit the night before, since the pain had driven him into delirium by that time, but he dimly recalled opening his eyes at some point, and had awakened that morning to find his glamor broken. He had immediately recast it, of course, but the damage was done - he could see it in the distrustful glances she threw at him, the way she didn't seem as pleased as the others to see him alive and well. In fact, the look on her face had been one of outright dismay.

Discovering that she had retrieved his bandages from the infirmary confirmed it - she definitely knew he wasn't who he claimed to be, and now that she'd gotten her hands on his blood, she would soon know everything...and then she would expose him. Mordred couldn't allow that; he wanted Merlin to know the truth about their relationship someday, but not now, not like this.

Luckily, he had a plan - he'd told Agravaine the night before he set out for Dagon that he intended to take revenge on Morgana for betraying his mother, and he had spent his last year with his guardian plotting how he would accomplish that goal. After months of extensive research into the dark arts and painstaking preparation, he had devised a perfect punishment... Then he had been swept up in the near-constant chaos that seemed to surround Merlin and his friends and ended up putting it off far longer than he'd meant to, but recent events had made him realize that he couldn't delay anymore. It was time for her to go.

After shaking off Merlin and Arthur by claiming he wasn't fully recovered from his wound and needed to rest, he sent messages to his most important allies, notifying them of his plans. Then he sought out the one person he needed to help him set things in motion - a spy he and Agravaine had planted in Dagon prior to his arrival, who had been operating in plain sight without ever arousing a hint of suspicion...

###

Sefa was hard at work, cleaning Morgana's armor - now that all that unpleasantness with Caerleon and the Disir was over, Sefa hoped it wouldn't be needed again for a good long while - when a voice that seemed to come out of thin air said, "Hello, Sefa," right in her ear, causing her to let out a little scream and drop the arm brace she was polishing. The resulting racket as it hit the stone floor produced another startled yelp.

Clutching her chest, she whirled around to see who had almost given her a heart attack...and found Mordred standing there, smirking at her. The sight of him did nothing to soothe her rattled nerves. "I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't know you were there! Did you need something? I have to finish my chores before my mistress comes back-"

"No, you don't. Your father has been very pleased with the reports you've sent him, but now it's time for you to take a more active role in our fight against Arthur."

Sefa's face grew steadily paler as she listened to Mordred's instructions; by the time he finished, she looked almost ghostlike and was biting her lip furiously.

"Is there a problem?" he snapped.

"Sorry, it's just...do you really need to do this? In all the time I've worked for Morgana, she's never been anything but kind to me - she's really not...so...bad..." Her voice dwindled away to a mere whisper as she saw Mordred's expression darkening with each word.

"Not so bad? Have you forgotten how she betrayed, crippled, and ultimately caused the death of your queen? Your father swore me his service, and yours, after she died; can you imagine what Ruadan would say if he could hear you now, sympathizing with that traitor? How disappointed he would be? But then, you probably don't have to imagine it - I'm sure you've disappointed him more than enough already, what with your lack of even the feeblest magical ability. This is your chance to make up for it, to finally prove your worth to him, and I would have thought you'd be grateful for the opportunity."

Sefa hung her head in an attempt to hide the tears forming in her eyes. "Y-you're right, my lord. I just don't know if I can-"

Mordred seized her by her upper arms, his fingers biting into her flesh. "Listen to me, girl. Ruadan's position is already precarious since he failed to start a war between Camelot and Caerleon's kingdom. Do as I say, or your father will pay the price for your disobedience!" Sefa's only response was a badly stifled sob, so he sent a magical pulse through her that made her feel as if her bones were on fire. "Do you understand?"

"Yes! Yes, I'll do whatever you want, just please let me go! _Please!_ "

He released her and she stumbled back, whimpering in pain and terror as she rubbed her bruised arms. "Stop your blubbering," he commanded with an air of bored disgust, "and get ready to carry out your task the instant Morgana returns. It's imperative that she has no chance to speak with anyone."

###

Morgana flew back to Camelot in the form of an eagle, hoping the extra time and the exhilaration of flight would help clear her mind and allow her to sort things out, but by the time she soared through the window of the guest chamber, transformed back into a woman, and stowed her cloak in the wardrobe, she was no closer to thinking of a way to soften the blow when she told Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen the truth about Mordred, much less deciding what they should do with the information. _I suppose I'll just have to forget about sparing their feelings and come right out with it... Then we can figure out where to go from there together..._

In her preoccupied state, she almost walked right into Sefa. "Oh! My apologies - I seem to be a bit distracted today."

"It's fine, my lady." Sefa forced a smile that was really more of a grimace, but Morgana didn't notice. "Where have you been all day?"

"Out. Now if you'll excuse me-"

"You must be hungry after missing two meals. Why don't you sit down, and I'll-"

"That's very kind of you, but I really don't have time-"

"At least let me get you a drink," Sefa said quickly, snatching up the pitcher on the table and pouring some water into a cup. "Here you go!"

"No thank you, I really do need to-"

"I insist! Please, my lady, you haven't eaten a thing all day - you'll make yourself ill if you don't at least have some water!" She thrust the cup at Morgana, her hand shaking so badly that some of its contents sloshed over the rim.

"Oh, very well." Morgana took it, afraid Sefa would spill the whole thing down the front of her dress if she didn't. Truth be told, she _was_ rather thirsty, and she supposed taking a moment for a quick drink wouldn't make any difference. She gulped the water down, then handed the empty cup back to her maid. "Thank you. Now, I have important matters to attend to, so you may have the rest of the day to yourself. I'll see you tomorrow."

She barely made it halfway across the room before her vision started to blur and her legs turned to jelly, sending her crashing to the floor. "What-?" She looked around for Sefa, expecting the girl to help her, but she just stood there, still holding the cup from which Morgana had just drunk. "You... _Why?_ "

"I'm so sorry." Even though it was hard to tell with her sight growing cloudier by the second and the room beginning to spin, she thought Sefa was crying. "He made me do it."

"He?" Morgana asked weakly.

As if in answer to her question, the door opened, and she had just enough time to catch a glimpse of Mordred sneering down at her before everything went black.

###

As she slowly regained consciousness, three things became apparent to her: first, her head was pounding; second, she seemed to be lying on a flat stone surface with chains on her wrists and ankles, and third - and most alarming - her magic wouldn't respond when she attempted to free herself, or when she tried to call out to Merlin for help. The cold metal cuffs seemed to be enchanted to restrain her powers as well as her body.

Panicking, she opened her eyes - and found herself face to face with Mordred. "Good, you're awake. I was afraid you were going to miss all the fun."

"Mordred." The sight of him sent chills down her spine; the facade he had maintained so assiduously in all the time she'd known him - that of a humble, uncertain, lonely boy who just wanted a family - was gone, leaving the cold calculation she had always sensed lurking beneath his superficial charm on full display. His azure eyes were as pitiless as a snake's as he stared down at her, but she refused to let him see the effect he had on her. "I guess I should congratulate you; I never anticipated that you would get to me through Sefa, of all people. Although I have to confess, I'm disappointed that you used that poor girl to do your dirty work instead of having the courage to confront me yourself."

A hint of anger flashed across his face, but he quickly reined it in. "Mock me all you like; the only thing that matters now is that I have you here, in my power, and you're finally going to pay for everything you've done."

Morgana raised her eyebrows. "And what exactly do you think I've done?"

Mordred seemed honestly taken aback by the question. "Do you really need to ask? For one thing, there's the fact that you, along with that ridiculous old man and Arthur's insolent little wench, wanted to let me die-"

"We never wanted you to die!" Morgana protested. "We couldn't plunge Camelot into civil war just to save you, though - you are _not_ more important than everyone else in the whole kingdom!"

"As if that wasn't enough," he continued, ignoring her, "you betrayed my mother, your own sister!"

Now it was her turn to be taken aback. " _I_ betrayed _her_?" she repeated incredulously. "You call my refusal to turn against the people I had known and loved all my life in order to side with a half-sister I never even knew I had, who didn't even bother to introduce herself before kidnapping my fiancé and I, a betrayal? Besides, Morgause had a nasty habit of dispensing with her allies once she felt they had outlived their usefulness - I would have been a fool to align myself with her."

"She only did what was necessary to restore our people to their rightful place in this world. Because of you, she died in agony and I was left to endure a miserable, isolated existence, shut away from the world - before I went to Dagon, I had only spoken with two people in my entire life!"

He paused, breathing hard, while she fought back the tears brought on by an overwhelming surge of pity and sorrow. "I'm so sorry, Mordred. I wouldn't wish such a life on anyone. Had I known of Morgause's intentions, and all you would suffer because of her schemes, I swear I would have stopped her."

After a moment, he collected himself and resumed talking. "Save your remorseful platitudes; it's too late for that. All I want now is revenge. I've spent my life alone and unloved - now it's your turn. I'm going to take everything from you, just as you did to me. After tonight, no one outside this room will remember you ever existed; no one will miss you, and no one will save you. You won't be able to use your magic to escape the fate I have in store for you either, because I'm going to take that from you as well."

At that, the fear she had been struggling to contain started to slip its bounds. "So you mean to kill me?" Morgana vividly recalled the early days of her engagement to Merlin, when her misgivings about marrying a sorcerer had led her to investigate whether it was possible to make someone give up magic, only to discover that it couldn't be done without tearing their soul apart.

"Kill you?" He bent down so that their noses were almost touching. "Oh no, I have no intention of letting you off so easily. I imagine the books in Balinor's library would tell you that no one can survive having their magic ripped away; I, on the other hand, have had access to resources that offer a broader perspective, and I've found that it is possible for a person to live without part of their soul...or at least they can survive. I'm not sure I would call such a condition _living_." Straightening up, he called out, _Kara, Ruadan, come here! It's time to begin._

For the first time, Morgana took her eyes off him and scanned her surroundings; they were in a cavernous, decrepit stone chamber that seemed to have been carved directly out of the foundation of whatever structure was built above it. The only light came from a few torches in widely spaced wall sconces, and there were several crumbling passages leading off in different directions. Two people emerged from those passages - a man dressed all in black with whitening hair and a short, matching beard, and a girl with curly brown locks who wore a drab red and brown dress - and joined Mordred in the center of the room, near the stone slab where Morgana was chained. Agravaine and Sefa came in too, but they stayed off in the shadows. Agravaine wore a strangely anticipatory expression, while Sefa appeared frightened out of her wits, biting her knuckles as if to keep herself from screaming.

Under Mordred's direction, Ruadan and Kara began preparing for the ritual, using their magic to carve a series of arcane symbols into the floor which would help them direct the energy they were about to unleash. That was when Morgana started struggling in earnest, until Mordred cast a spell that froze her in place. Not long after that, Ruadan announced that everything was ready, and the three of them positioned themselves around the slab in a roughly triangular formation with Mordred at the head.

Their chanting seemed to go on forever, an eternity in which Morgana could only stare up at the ceiling, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes as she felt the dark magic they were weaving pressing in on her, seeping into her skin, seeking out the very core of her soul... Then, as the invocation reached its peak, she felt something within her being violently torn asunder, and the most intense, all-consuming pain she had ever known tore through every fiber of her being as a beam of golden light erupted from her chest. It hovered in the air for a moment, seeking a new vessel to replace the one it had just been forcibly expelled from, until Mordred uttered another incantation which drew it into a small crystal suspended from a chain around his neck. After all, it would be a shame to let something as valuable as the magic of a future High Priestess go to waste.

Morgana went limp, her eyes rolling back in her head as she fainted. Mordred unbound her with a snap of his fingers, then removed her wedding ring and everything else on her person that might provide a clue to her identity - all except the white gold ring in the shape of a dragon with a jade eye that Merlin had given her after Dagon's former court physician, Edwin Muirden, attempted to poison her. Its protective enchantments hadn't done her much good this time, having been suppressed along with her own magic by the dark enchantments woven into her chains, but no matter how hard Mordred pulled at it, it wouldn't come off. Not even magic could dislodge the thing.

He turned away, carefully concealing his frustration, and announced, "There, it's done. She's yours at last, Agravaine, just as I promised. Do whatever you like with her, just take her far away from here and see to it that she never returns to Camelot or Dagon."

Agravaine bowed, struggling to contain his glee at the prospect of finally having the object of his desire all to himself. "Yes, my lord, but what of my work in Camelot?"

"Make an excuse to leave," Mordred replied dismissively. "Tell Arthur you've been away from your province too long, it matters not. Sefa will remain in court as our spy, but your talents are needed elsewhere. It's time to begin the final phase of our plans to bring Albion to its knees."

"Yes, my lord, and thank you for allowing me to have her - your generosity truly knows no bounds." Agravaine eagerly lifted the still-unconscious Morgana and carried her out of the underground chamber, clutching her to his chest like some priceless trophy.

Mordred then turned to Kara. "Go with him. Your task now is to assist Agravaine in his next mission, and ensure that his precious prize does not slip through the bars of her cage."

Kara agreed, though she appeared less than thrilled with her new assignment. Before she left, she said, "I'm glad you finally followed through on this. After all the time we spent working out what to do with her, you waited so long that I had started to fear you'd been distracted from fulfilling Queen Morgause's plans."

"Never," Mordred assured her. Kara had been Morgause's maidservant for years before he was born, and she had never wavered in her dedication to her former mistress' goals and ideology. Seeing her again reminded him why everything they were fighting for was so important, and he thought he would rather suffer the same fate he'd just condemned Morgana to than admit to her that his own faith had faltered even for a moment. "Things have been...hectic, but I swear to you I will never lose sight of my destiny - our people's destiny."

Kara's blue-gray eyes glowed with approval. "Good. You'll be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen, I can feel it. Queen Morgause would be very proud of you."

###

Meanwhile, Sefa was also receiving congratulations on her role in the evening's events. "Well done - you've proven yourself a worthy daughter," Ruadan said as he bestowed a rare smile on her.

"Thank you, Father...but I don't know if I can do this anymore. I heard Prince Mordred say he wants me to keep spying on Arthur and Merlin, except I won't have as much access to them now that I'm not Morgana's maid..."

"Then you'll just have to be more ingenious in the way you go about collecting information. You mentioned in one of your reports that you've become close to Merlin's manservant, and he will still remember your friendship even if he forgets the details of how you came to know one another in the first place; perhaps you can learn things from him."

"Perhaps," Sefa agreed, even as her stomach seemed to fill with lead at the thought of using Will that way.

"Even if your effectiveness as a spy is diminished, I cannot overstate the importance of what you've already achieved; removing a player as powerful as Morgana from the board is no mean feat. I'm proud of you."

Sefa had often longed to hear those words from her father, especially since he had uttered them less and less as her lack of magical aptitude became apparent...yet somehow, after the horrible deeds she had witnessed tonight, which she had been a party to, her father's praise didn't have quite the effect she had imagined.

###

Back in the royal palace of Camelot, Merlin suddenly awoke to find himself slumped over a table in the library, with an open book in front of him and Arthur shaking him. "What is it? What happened?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You fell asleep with your books again. You looked like you were having a bad dream, so I thought I'd better wake you."

"I don't remember dreaming," Merlin protested, running his hands over his face in an effort to clear his head, which felt strangely foggy.

"Well, you kept twitching and mumbling something - I think it must've been a name. It sounded like 'Morgan'...no, 'Morgana'. That was it."

Merlin's only reaction was a puzzled frown. "Really? That's odd. I don't know anyone named Morgana."

 **Yikes... Morgana really needs to quit drinking water that someone is aggressively pushing on her, doesn't she? I know some of you might be very upset with me right now, so I just want to reassure you that this story is not headed for a tragic ending, even if it might seem that way.**

 **For disclaimer purposes, the spell Mordred used on Morgana was partly inspired by the Chainfire spell from the ninth Sword of Truth novel, and by a friend's comment about how in the show's later seasons it seemed like someone had cast a spell that made everyone forget who Morgana used to be, including Morgana herself - so I took the idea and ran with it.**


	12. Severed Souls

**Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the last two; I wanted to give you guys a break before Mordred strikes again, and I wanted to give myself a break, because writing chapters with 6000+ words is taxing.**

He looked quizzically at Arthur, wondering if his friend had perhaps overheard anything else that might explain what he'd been dreaming about, but Arthur only shrugged. "Neither do I."

"Well, why was I saying a name that doesn't belong to anyone I've ever met?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Honestly, _Mer_ lin, how am I supposed to know what goes on inside that thick head of yours?"

"You're right, of course - that would require empathy and intuition, which aren't exactly your greatest qualities," Merlin retorted.

"At least I'm intuitive enough to know the library is not a proper place for sleeping. Come on, let's get you to your chambers."

As they walked away, neither of them noticed Mordred lurking among the rows of shelves, smirking. His enchantments had worked perfectly - neither of them remembered Morgana at all, nor did they have even the slightest inkling that their memories had been modified. Now he could move on to other matters; Agravaine was currently organizing a large-scale invasion of Albion that would cripple anyone who objected to his usurpation of Camelot's throne, but why should he wait for that? Arthur had held the crown that rightfully belonged to him and oppressed the people of Camelot far too long - it was long past time to rid the kingdom of him.

He had no elaborate retribution in store for Arthur - simply killing him would suffice, although it had to be done carefully, in such a manner that no one would suspect Mordred...but how? Now that he was king, Arthur rarely went anywhere alone.

Mordred was reminded of just how difficult it was to carry out any kind of clandestine activity in a bustling castle as he turned to leave and almost tripped over the unconscious form of Camelot's historian and genealogist, Geoffrey of Monmouth, who he'd been forced to knock out when the old man caught him making off with Merlin's wedding ring mere moments before Arthur's arrival. He was tempted to just leave him there, but it would be foolish to push his luck further; he'd already received an unbelievable stroke of good fortune when he found Merlin asleep in the library - after pushing himself to his limits over the past three days while trying to find a cure for Mordred, exhaustion seemed to have caught up with him at last, so that he hadn't even stirred as Mordred slipped the ring off his finger.

Geoffrey would remember nothing out of the ordinary in the morning thanks to the blow Mordred had dealt him, but questions would definitely be asked if he woke up on the floor, or was found there, so, with a long-suffering sigh, Mordred levitated him, floated him into his quarters and deposited him on his bed, then put the heavy tome he'd brought crashing down on the old man's skull back in its place on the shelf. It would be a shame if all his schemes were ruined just because he carelessly left a body lying around.

###

The next morning, the woman who used to be the princess of Dagon and was now a nonentity to all but a handful of people woke up in a luxurious, if fairly gloomy, bedchamber...with a much older, somewhat heavyset man sitting beside her, stroking her cheek. She jerked away, her eyes widening in alarm as she scrambled into a sitting position as far from him as she could get without falling off the bed.

"I apologize for startling you," he said in a voice as oily as his hair. "I assure you, I mean you no-"

"Who are you?"

The man frowned. "Don't you remember?"

She instinctively shook her head but searched her memory anyway, just to be sure...and found it utterly blank. Not only did she not remember the man in front of her, she couldn't recall anything about any other people she knew, or even any personal information about herself. "I don't remember anything," she said shakily. "Who are you? Where am I? _Who_ am I?! _Why can't I remember?!_ "

Kara, who was listening through the door, scowled. Evidently, the dark ritual they had used on Morgana had had an unforeseen side effect - not only had it erased her from everyone else's memories, it had also erased her memories of _herself_. Mordred would be disappointed that his revenge hadn't worked out as intended. Of course, being robbed of one's magic and memories was still fairly horrific, but with no knowledge of what she'd lost, Morgana wouldn't be quite as miserable as Mordred had meant for her to be.

Agravaine, on the other hand, was elated. He'd been prepared to endure a great deal of fury and hatred before she accepted that he was all she had left in the world, but perhaps, in her current state, she would prove more malleable than he'd anticipated. "I'm afraid you suffered a terrible accident, my dear," he said smoothly. "You struck your head on a stone whilst falling from your horse, and it seems the injury has affected your mind."

"Oh. Perhaps you can help me remember, then?"

"Of course. I am Lord Agravaine, and you are Morgana...my betrothed."

"We're engaged?" she asked, cautiously inching closer to him.

"Indeed."

Agravaine was clearly delighted by this, but Morgana felt no reciprocal pleasure at the idea that the man in front of her would one day be her husband. To cover her disconcertingly lukewarm reaction to the news, she quickly changed the subject. "And what of my family?"

At that, Agravaine's expression of glee turned sorrowful. "I'm afraid you have no family still living, my dear. Neither do I - my parents are long dead, of course, and my brother and sister were both taken before their time - but at least we have each other."

He pulled her into a smothering embrace, which Morgana tolerated only because her head was spinning from everything she'd just learned, and because it seemed like she should; he was her fiancé, after all. She wrapped her arms loosely around him, resting her chin on his shoulder...and as she stared down at her hands resting indecisively on his back, her eyes were drawn to a magnificent ring in the shape of a dragon on the third finger of her right hand.

Morgana immediately pushed Agravaine away and held her hand up to her face for closer inspection; the ring wasn't overly large, yet every scale on the dragon's body, every fine bone in its wings, was exquisitely detailed, and the tiny, twinkling piece of jade that served as its eye made it seem almost lifelike. "I've never seen anything so beautiful," she murmured, before glancing up at Agravaine. "Was it a gift from you?"

He hesitated a moment before answering; he hated the sight of that ring on her finger, the only reminder of her marriage to Merlin that Mordred had been unable to get rid of...on the other hand, she seemed quite enamored of it, so perhaps believing he had given to her would cause her to look more favorably on him. "Why yes, it was. Unfortunately, the jeweler made a mistake; it's a bit too small. If I could have it back, I'll get you another ring in the proper size."

Morgana instinctively drew her right hand against her chest, covering it protectively with her left. She didn't fully understand why she felt such a strong attachment to this ring, but she couldn't bear the thought of parting with it, and knew beyond a shadow of doubt that she did _not_ want a replacement. "That won't be necessary, my lord. I'm happy with this one."

Agravaine's face darkened with anger, and for one heartstopping instant she feared he would tear the ring from her finger, but then he composed himself. "Very well. I'll leave you to get dressed, shall I? This is Kara," he added as the chamber's door opened to admit a sour-faced brunette. "She'll assist you with anything you need."

Kara's expression grew even more sour at that. Once Agravaine left, she snapped at Morgana, "Well, get up. Your clothes are in the wardrobe over there. Don't expect me to wait on you hand and foot as if you're a princess."

"That's all right," Morgana said meekly. "I can dress myself."

Kara glared at her but, unable to argue with Morgana's ready acquiescence, she had to settle for slamming the door as she stomped out.

Finally alone, Morgana gave the ring an experimental twist, noting that it didn't feel too tight. Then, with a quick tug, she easily slid it off her finger. She put it back on and removed it twice more without the slightest difficulty. _I don't know what Agravaine was talking about - it fits perfectly._ Her finger, however, was red and sore, as if someone had tried very hard to pull it off. There was no doubt in her mind that the culprit was none other than Agravaine; she could tell by the look on his face when she'd refused to hand over the ring that he didn't like her wearing it...yet he hadn't been able to wrench it off her while she was unconscious. How could that be?

 _Magic,_ a tiny voice whispered from deep within the recesses of her mind. Morgana shook her head as if to banish it. She didn't know if Agravaine had magic, but if he did, why would he enchant a ring he obviously didn't want her to have so that only she could remove it? Of course, it was possible that he had lied about being the one who gave it to her, but who else could it have been? After all, she had no family, unless one counted her soon-to-be husband. What sorcerer would ever give her a magic ring?

###

Morgana often wondered about her ring's origins in the following days, but she never got any closer to unraveling the mystery; even if she had an idea of where to begin looking for answers, she couldn't gather any information without leaving her chambers, which was impossible to do since her door was locked from the outside. Agravaine and Kara let her out each day for fresh air and exercise (though Mordred had lived a restrained and isolated life, he had never been confined to a single room, and he insisted that her punishment be fair) but they watched her closely and never let her speak to anyone; Kara kept her on a particularly short tether, frequently using spells to trip her up or drag her back if she felt her charge was straying too far. The servants often gave her sympathetic looks whenever this happened, but none of them ever did anything about it.

Agravaine usually endeavored to be more pleasant, yet Morgana could never muster any greater enthusiasm for him than she had felt when he first introduced himself. Beneath his charming veneer of genteel manners, she perceived a manipulative, greedy, self-serving nature; the more she got to know the man, the more she found herself wondering why she had agreed to marry him in the first place...if indeed she had. He was keeping her as a virtual prisoner, so she could certainly believe he had abducted her.

At first, she even allowed herself to hope he had lied about her having no family, but as the days bled into weeks and no one came to rescue her, she gave up on that. If the sorcerer who had enchanted her ring, who she imagined must have cared about her a great deal to have given her such a splendid gift, was still alive, surely he would have found her by now.

It occurred to her that she could run away on her own, but even if she could escape Agravaine's castle (which seemed unlikely with Kara watching her every move) she had nowhere to go and no means of making her way in the world. At least she was relatively safe where she was, even if she detested the idea of marriage to Agravaine so much that she felt herself slipping further into despair every time she contemplated her future with him.

Perhaps it wasn't just Agravaine, though - sometimes, when she was alone and her thoughts turned inward, she experienced an odd sensation, like the phantom pains from a missing limb, except that it didn't seem to be connected to any particular area of her body, and all her parts were still in place as far as she could tell. Nevertheless, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had lost something, something even more important than her memories, something that formed the very essence of her being. Without it, she was only a shadow of the person she was meant to be. If only she could remember what it was...

Her musings were rudely interrupted when Kara barged in. "Standing around daydreaming again? Why can't you ever do anything useful, like brushing your own hair? Come here - you can't go to dinner looking like _that_."

Morgana cringed; she'd meant to brush her hair, she really had, but she just hadn't been able to make herself care how it looked today. She knew it was no use protesting, though, so she sat down at her vanity and tried not to wince too noticeably as Kara yanked the brush through her tangled locks. At last, her jailer deemed her presentable and marched her down to Agravaine's private dining room.

Morgana's heart sank when she realized where they were going; she hated the intimate atmosphere of that room, to say nothing of the fact that it was far too close to his bedchamber for her liking. He had never invited her inside, of course, and the door always remained shut, as was proper, but the mere proximity served as a chilling reminder of what awaited her once they were wed.

Agravaine greeted her with a broad smile as he pulled out her chair, which would have been a chivalrous gesture if not for her suspicions that he took longer than necessary to push the chair up to the table once she was seated so he could look down her bodice. Luckily, his mind seemed to be elsewhere tonight; he looked as if he was positively bursting to tell her something, and quickly took his own seat rather than lingering behind her chair and enjoying the view. Although she was glad to be spared his lecherous stares, Morgana couldn't help feeling apprehensive - anything that had Agravaine this excited probably boded ill for her.

"I have wonderful news, my dear. Do you remember what I've told you about how I and a select group of others are working to help the rightful king of Camelot reclaim his throne from his uncle, the usurper?"

Morgana nodded, although she wasn't sure she agreed with Agravaine's interpretation of the power struggle in Camelot. She didn't know much about the laws of royal inheritance, but it seemed to her that King Arthur, as the previous king's legitimate child and chosen heir, had a better claim to the throne than the son of his bastard half-sister, even if she was older. Morgana had only voiced her misgivings once, though, when Agravaine first told her about his role as a double agent; her outspokenness had earned her a disapproving lecture from her fiancé and a vicious slap from Kara, so she had kept her opinions to herself thereafter.

"For several months, I have been negotiating an alliance with the Saxons on behalf of Prince Mordred," Agravaine said with an air of great self-importance, "and the leaders of the five largest clans have finally agreed to our terms. I've commissioned a fleet of ships from Deorham, so that we can bring them to Albion with no one the wiser. We leave tomorrow, and we shall set sail from King Alined's lands within the month - he's a well-known warmonger, so by using his ships and ports I can ensure that he will be blamed for allying with the Saxons in the unlikely event that their presence is discovered. Then, once I have delivered our king his army, we can move on to more enjoyable matters." He leered at her, leaving no doubt as to what he meant.

Morgana suppressed a shudder and forced herself to smile. "I can hardly wait, my lord." Behind her mask of submission, her mind was racing. She didn't yet know exactly what she was going to do with this information, but she knew she had to do something. Even if King Arthur really was as horrid as Agravaine and Kara said, he couldn't possibly be worse than a man who was willing to unleash hordes of Saxon marauders on Albion. _I have to warn him...somehow._

###

Her chance came the next day, as they prepared to depart Agravaine's castle; a servant whose arms were piled so high with luggage that he couldn't see where he was going bumped into Kara, and as she berated him, Morgana seized one of the stable boys and dragged him around the corner of the area where the tack was kept. She didn't know him, of course, but he'd smiled at her a few times when he saw Kara bullying her. "What's your name?"

"Daegal, my lady." He glanced around nervously. "Look, I'm not supposed to talk to you-"

She cut him off, speaking rapidly in a frantic attempt to impart her message before Kara caught her. "I have a very important task for you, Daegal. I need you to go to the capital of Camelot and warn King Arthur that the Saxons are invading Albion. Agravaine intends to sneak them in on ships belonging to a King Alined so that nobody will know they're coming until it's too late."

"Why should I help Arthur Pendragon? I grew up as an orphan because his father killed my mother for using magic, even though she never hurt anybody."

Morgana bit her lip, unsure of how to deal with the boy's unexpected resistance. "I'm so sorry; it must have been awful to lose your mother when you were so young. I understand why you wouldn't want to help the son of your mother's killer, but this isn't just about him, it's about everyone who'll suffer is this invasion isn't stopped. Whatever this Arthur is like, do you really think someone who can do this, who allows his followers to treat others the way Kara treats me, will be any better?"

Her words seemed to have an effect on Daegal, though he still looked unconvinced.

"I can pay you!" she added desperately. "Here..." Reaching into the pouch on her belt, she pulled out a diamond necklace Agravaine had given her as part of his futile efforts to win her over. The boy's eyes grew huge as he stared at it. Sensing that he was wavering, she pressed her advantage. "Please - in spite of all you've endured, I believe you're a good person at heart. All I'm asking is for you to do the right thing."

Swallowing hard, Daegal finally snatched the necklace and stuffed it under his jacket. "All right, I'll do it!"

Morgana almost fainted from relief. "Thank you! I swear I won't forget this."

She hurried away, coming face to face with Kara just as she rounded the corner of the tack room. The witch's blue eyes narrowed as she took in Morgana's harried demeanor. "Where have you been?"

"Nowhere," Morgana said quickly. "I thought I dropped something, so I went to look for it...but it was in my pocket all along."

Kara rolled her eyes. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

"If you say so." Eager to draw Kara's attention elsewhere lest she notice Daegal and realize Morgana had spoken to him, she rushed to mount her horse and leave the stable. Thankfully, Kara followed.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Agravaine asked as she rode up beside him. "Your face is white as a sheet."

"I'm fine," Morgana lied. Her heart was still thundering against her ribs, though it slowly returned to its normal rhythm as she began to think her act of defiance might actually have gone undetected.

"Perhaps it will be good for you to spend some time out of doors during our journey; you haven't been looking quite well lately."

"Those shadows under her eyes aren't helping," Kara stated. "I never did understand what you saw in her, but at least she used to be pretty. And she's so dull - all she ever does is stand at her window and mope."

Morgana kept her face blank, letting their comments wash over her. Whatever they said about her, whatever happened to her after this, at least she had done her best to thwart their schemes, and she just might have saved the realm. Now if only she could find a way to save herself...

###

While Agravaine and Kara discussed the changes in Morgana, Arthur and Gwen were having a similar conversation about Merlin, though of course they had the decency not to do so right in front of him. "I don't know if you've noticed, Guinevere, but Merlin's been behaving strangely of late."

"You always think Merlin is behaving strangely."

"True, but for the last couple of weeks he's been acting even stranger than normal. He spends most of his time shut up in the library, he picks at his food, and when I talk to him, half the time I'm not sure he's even listening to me. He's just not himself, and Will says he hasn't been sleeping well either."

Gwen took her time chewing the spoonful of porridge and blueberries she had just placed in her mouth and dabbing her lips with her napkin before answering. "Well," she said at last, "maybe he's lonely."

"Lonely?" Arthur repeated incredulously. "How could _Merlin_ be lonely? He has plenty of friends! He has _us_!"

"Yes, and we'll be married soon. Gwaine and Freya got married a few months ago, Lancelot is engaged to Elena, and even Will seems to have developed some affection for that girl from the palace staff, Sefa. I think Merlin might be feeling a bit left out, that's all."

"Hmm." Arthur's face slid into an unusually pensive expression as he mulled this over. "Well then, we'll just have to do something about it."

"I agree. Perhaps we could spend more time with him, try to show him that we won't forget about him after our wedding-"

"I have a better idea," Arthur interrupted, his eyes lighting up. "This might actually be the answer to another problem I've been wrestling with. It'll take some work to arrange it, and I'll need to speak with Balinor..." He jumped up from the table and dashed out of the room, still muttering to himself.

Gwen shook her head and went back to her porridge. Whatever his idea was, Arthur was obviously very excited about it, so she knew there was no point in trying to dissuade him. She just hoped he wasn't going to do anything foolish.

 **If anyone's wondering where the background characters came from, I borrowed Daegal from 5x08, in which Morgana paid him to lure Merlin into a trap; at first I was going to make up an OC to be her messenger since it's a fairly minor role, but then I remembered that there was a guy from canon who fit the bill, so I decided to use him instead. The scene between him and Morgana wasn't originally part of the plan, so I hope it didn't feel too out of place, but I needed some way to tip Arthur and Merlin off to Agravaine's plans, and after having him brag about his shady dealings to Morgana I wanted to give her a chance to do something other than sit around and be a victim.**

 **King Alined was the guy who set up the whole Arthur/Vivian thing in 2x10 to torpedo Uther's peace treaty because apparently war was good for his kingdom's economy, so in this story he's working with Mordred for money, blissfully unaware that Agravaine may be setting him up.**

 **I don't anticipate covering Agravaine's journey to pick up Mordred's Saxon mercenaries in great detail, so sadly this may be the last we see of Morgana for a while. On the plus side, this also means no more Agravaine.**


	13. The Hollow King

**For anyone who keeps track of my regular schedule, yes, I should be updating Lost In Camelot instead, but this chapter grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. Don't worry, LIC fans, I have about half of its next chapter written and will do my best to update it later this month.**

 **Warning: character death ahead, and unlike Uther's this one's a tearjerker.**

Mordred crept silently through the darkened corridors, unseen by the guards and servants thanks to a spell that prevented him from being noticed by anyone who wasn't actively looking for him, his nerves vibrating with anticipation as he stalked his oblivious quarry. He had no idea why Arthur had abruptly decided yesterday that he needed to visit Dagon immediately, or why he had slipped out for some sort of secret meeting with Balinor tonight, but he knew this was an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. For the first time since his coronation, Arthur was completely alone and unguarded; if Mordred was going to take him down, it was now or never...

Just as he closed in, Arthur paused mid-stride and glanced around suspiciously. A moment ago, he'd felt cheerful and optimistic - Balinor had seemed receptive to his idea, and he was confident that everything would work out perfectly - but now, as he made his way back to the guest chamber Balinor had jokingly said ought to be permanently designated as his, something - some half-glimpsed movement in the shadows, perhaps - had disrupted his sense that all was right with the world. His inspection of his surroundings revealed nothing amiss, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him; he could practically feel their gaze boring into him, and the corridor suddenly held an air of menace, like the charged atmosphere just before a thunderstorm.

He picked up his pace, wishing he had a sword, or even a knife; unfortunately for him, bringing weapons to a private meeting with a close ally would have been a serious breach of etiquette. He turned left, into a narrow, windowless hallway that provided a shortcut back to the guest wing...and the torches lining the passage guttered out, plunging him into total darkness.

Arthur froze, straining his other senses to compensate for his sudden loss of sight, then flung himself sideways as a blade whistled through the space where his neck had been a second ago. He hit the floor, rolled, and kicked out at the approximate location where he guessed his attacker's legs should be; his boots struck flesh, and there was a thud as the other person went down, but no accompanying clatter of a sword being dropped. Surmising that this meant the would-be assassin was still in possession of their weapon - and they almost certainly had magic as well - Arthur opted for a strategic retreat.

Scrambling to his feet, he pushed past the fallen body of his assailant and ran back toward Balinor's chambers, yelling for the guards. Five of them came running, and one managed a spell to relight a few torches, but then the assassin unleashed a wave of magic that swept them up like leaves in a gale and slammed them into the walls, knocking them senseless. Realizing he was on his own, Arthur took a sword from one of the downed guards and spun around to face the person who was so intent on murdering him, their identity now exposed by the flickering torchlight…

"Mordred?!" For a minute fraction of time that seemed to last an eternity, Arthur stood frozen, his mind utterly unable to comprehend what his eyes were telling him; then Mordred lunged forward, swinging his sword at him, and instinct took over. He brought his own sword up just in time to parry the blow and then automatically slipped into a series of defensive maneuvers designed to disarm his opponent without causing serious damage, but it took him a lot longer to get his mouth working again; when he did, his voice was a near-whisper that could barely be heard over their clashing blades. "Mordred… _why_?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," Mordred snarled, his face twisted with rage as he continued searching for an opening in Arthur's defenses. "As if your oppression of my people isn't reason enough, how about the fact that you were willing to let the Disir kill me?"

"I never wanted you to die!" Arthur protested. "I had no choice!"

"That isn't true, though, is it? The Disir offered you a chance – all you had to do was restore magic to its rightful place in Camelot, but you care more about clinging to the power keeping my kind under your heel gives you than your own flesh and blood. For all your talk of being a better king than Uther, you're just like him!"

His words hit Arthur like a slap in the face - after all, hadn't Gaius told him that sacrificing Mordred for the good of Camelot was exactly what Uther would have done? - and Mordred took advantage of his split-second lapse in concentration, knocking the sword out of his hand. Face alight with triumph, Mordred gave a final thrust with his own blade, its point perfectly poised to run Arthur through...

...Until someone knocked him aside at the last second. Having heard the commotion down the hall from his chambers, Balinor had grabbed his sword and hurried out to see what was the matter, arriving just in time to push Arthur out of harm's way...and the blade that would have ended his life, propelled by the inexorable momentum of the lethal strike Mordred had set in motion, plunged into Balinor's chest instead.

Time seemed to stand still as the three of them stared at the red stain slowly spreading over his white nightshirt; then Mordred instinctively yanked his sword free, and Balinor collapsed, the blood flowing faster now. Arthur rushed to catch him, gently lowering the wounded dragonlord to the floor. "Help! Someone...anyone...!"

To his immense relief, he heard rapidly approaching footsteps, and every torch in the corridor ignited in a blinding burst of flame - then his relief turned to dismay as he realized that the person who had responded to his desperate call for help was the one he would have given anything to prevent from witnessing this scene.

Finding himself unable to sleep yet again, Merlin had decided to visit Balinor, hoping he might find some solace in confiding his troubles to his father, who he knew wouldn't fuss over him like Gwen or tease him like Arthur, but would simply listen and try to help him work out the source of his problems. He had almost reached his destination when he heard Arthur's shouts and sprinted around the corner to find Balinor bleeding out in Arthur's arms. "Father?!"

"Merlin, no..." Arthur tried to cover Balinor's chest with his free hand, to shield Merlin from seeing the full extent of the damage, but Merlin didn't even seem to register his presence as he pushed him aside.

"Who did this to you?!"

Balinor's gaze shifted to the side, where Mordred stood frozen in horror at what he had done.

"Mordred? What-?" Then Merlin saw the bloody sword in his hand. "You did this?"

"No, I... It was an accident - I swear I didn't mean to-" Even as he stammered out his frantic denials, though, Mordred could tell it was no use. Merlin's bewilderment and betrayal were rapidly crystallizing into fury, and Mordred could practically feel the magic humming through his veins, like a storm gathering in the clouds overhead. He therefore did the only sensible thing one could do under such circumstances - he fled before the storm could be unleashed, vanishing in a flash of golden eyes and a gust of wind.

Merlin made an almost involuntary movement as if to pursue him, but Balinor quietly spoke his name, and something in his father's voice - a weak, faded quality he had never heard there before - made him forget all about Mordred.

"Thank you for coming, Merlin. I'm glad I got to see you...one last time."

"What are you talking about? I'm going to heal you."

Before he could attempt it, however, Balinor took hold of his wrist and, with the last of his strength, moved his hand away. "No...this is a mortal wound. I do not wish to live at the cost of another's life...nor do I want you to have such a thing on your conscience."

Merlin clutched his hand, tears welling up in his eyes as the reality of the situation sunk in. "But I'm not ready to lose you. I can't..."

"You won't lose me, my son. I'll always be with you, but I have...taught you everything I can. I am...prouder than I can say...of the man you've become. You are ready to lead this kingdom, and I...am ready to see your mother again."

He looked pleadingly at Merlin, silently entreating him not to fight the inevitable, to let him go...and after a long moment, despite the tears streaming down his face, Merlin nodded. It was all he could do - even if he had been able to speak, he didn't think he could bring himself to say goodbye - but Balinor seemed to understand. He gave Merlin a grateful smile and squeezed his hand, maintaining the faint pressure for a few seconds before his fingers slowly went limp. His eyes closed, and the blood stopped flowing from his chest as the old dragonlord's heart beat its last.

###

The funeral was held at dusk the following day. Like Uther, Balinor was carried outside for a public viewing, though the mood was very different; while the grief at Uther's memorial had been somewhat muted by the knowledge that his death had been a long time coming, the mourners who packed themselves into the courtyard to bid farewell to Balinor seemed to be in a collective state of shock. After all, their king had been perfectly healthy, and there were whispers of how tragic it was that he had met such a violent end at the hands of a boy to whom he had shown nothing but kindness.

Arthur and Gwen were afraid this would upset Merlin, who had thus far refused to allow anyone to speak Mordred's name in his presence, but he didn't seem to hear them. He just stared straight ahead, his eyes glazed and bloodshot but finally dry for the first time since Balinor's death. That blank expression remained fixed on his face until the eulogy ended and Arthur stepped forward to address the crowd.

"People of Dagon," he began somberly, "I owe each and every one of you an apology. King Balinor was a great man – a strong, wise ruler who I was privileged to count among my allies – and he was taken from you because he saved my life. I'm forever in your debt-" He turned to face Merlin, head bowed "-especially yours. I know it's a debt I can never repay…"

"Thank you, King Arthur." Looking up, he was surprised and overjoyed to finally see some emotion other than sorrow and that dreadful look of numb despair on Merlin's face. "Your continued friendship will more than satisfy whatever debt you feel you owe us."

Once the crowd had dispersed, leaving him alone with Arthur and Gwen, he said, "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did," Arthur insisted. "I've been trying all day to tell you how sorry I am, but you've been so distant - not that I blame you. Your father died because of me-"

Merlin shook his head. "No one made him go to your aid; he did it because that was the kind of man he was, and if we could go back and relive that night, I know he would do it again."

"But it's my fault he was in that position in the first place. Mordred-" Realizing his mistake a second too late, Arthur paused as soon as the name left his lips, but although Merlin's expression darkened, nothing in the vicinity exploded. After a moment, he judged it safe to continue. "Mordred betrayed us because of me, because I would have sacrificed him for the good of Camelot."

"Which Merlin, Gaius, and I all agreed was the right thing to do," Gwen reminded him.

Despite her reassurances, Arthur still looked troubled. "He said I'm just like my father." He held up a hand to forestall their protests. "I know that isn't true, at least not yet, but I don't imagine _he_ became what he was overnight either. What if this is how it starts - you have to make one morally compromising decision, and you justify it by telling yourself the alternative is worse, but then it keeps getting easier until one day, you find that there's no line you won't cross anymore."

"That's why you have friends - to make sure you don't lose sight of where the lines are, although the fact that you're concerned about stepping over them in the first place means you probably don't have to worry too much."

"You didn't force Mordred's hand any more than you forced my father to save you," Merlin added. "He's the one who decided his own life should have been more important than your whole kingdom, and you are not responsible for his choices."

"Thank you, both of you." Arthur tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "I just can't understand how he could have turned on us so completely; he attacked me with no hesitation at all, and when I looked into his eyes...I've never felt that anyone hated me that much. I think that's why he used a sword, instead of killing me with magic; he wanted it to be up close and personal."

"It's hard to believe he could be capable of such evil," Gwen agreed. "After all we did for him... You were both much closer to him than I was, especially Merlin, but I never would have thought he had it in him. He was always a bit aloof, but he seemed perfectly nice..."

"Stop it!" This time Merlin did inadvertently blow up one of the statues decorating the castle's facade, forcing them all to dodge the falling chunks of stone.

Arthur and Gwen exchanged worried looks; neither of them had ever seen him lose control like this. "Merlin," she began in the same gentle, soothing voice she used to use when someone brought a nervous horse to her father's smithy, "we can only imagine how you must feel right now, losing your father and Mordred at the same time... We all trusted him, and his betrayal hurt-"

"Of course it hurts," Merlin snapped, cutting her off, "but we - _I_ \- can't afford to dwell on that! It doesn't matter that we used to think he was our friend! He's not that person anymore - maybe he never was, and he played us for fools all along...either way, he's our enemy now, and the next time I see him..." His voice trailed off as he became aware that Arthur and Gwen were staring at him with their mouths slightly open. "Don't look at me like that, damn it! He's the reason I have no family left!"

He abruptly turned away, not wanting them to see him cry yet again, but Gwen grabbed his arm, forcefully pulling him back, and wrapped him in a bone-crushing embrace. "That's not true, Merlin. Arthur and I are your family now."

"That's right," Arthur agreed. "You'll always have us, no matter what." He just hoped he wouldn't be required to join them for a group hug - at least not in the middle of the courtyard, where somebody might see them.

Luckily for him, the moment was broken by the dull roar of heavy wingbeats in the distance. The dragons, so many they seemed to fill every inch of the sky, had arrived to pay homage to their fallen dragonlord. Most of them remained airborne, hovering overhead, while Kilgharrah and Aithusa swooped down for a landing. The latter rushed to offer comfort by nuzzling Merlin - it had been a while since he'd seen Aithusa, and he noted with some surprise that her head was now a few inches higher than his - while Kilgharrah simply stood in front Balinor's body, gazing down at his old friend.

Merlin walked over and laid a hand on his gigantic forepaw. "I'm sorry... I know what he meant to you - to all of you."

Kilgharrah heaved a deep sigh. "I have lived a very long time, Merlin; I have seen more human death than you can imagine, and I have witnessed the passing of hundreds of dragonlords, your ancestors, even the one who conquered this land when the realm of Albion was in its infancy. After all this time, one would think it would not affect me so, and yet..." They shared another moment of silent contemplation before he swung his head around, fixing his golden eyes on Merlin. "Shall we proceed?"

Merlin swallowed hard and, throat too tight to speak, gave the Great Dragon an affirmative nod.

"Do not grieve over what we do now, Merlin - this is simply the natural order of things. Dragonlords are, after all, kin to dragons; from the flames we were made, and to flame we return." Facing forward once more, he opened his cavernous mouth wide and bathed Balinor's remains in fire; when he was done, the stone slab on which the body had lain was melted into a twisted blob, and the body itself had been reduced to ash, bones and all. At Merlin's command, the ashes gathered into a cloud and spiraled into a marble urn, which he then sealed with another incantation, ensuring that it would remain impervious to damage and decay for all time.

"Well done, young dragonlord. I trust your father taught you how to call upon my kin and I if you have need of us; we are yours to command now." Spreading his wings, Kilgharrah launched himself into the air.

The sky gradually cleared as the other dragons followed him back to the mountains where they had their nesting grounds, all except Aithusa. She stayed in the courtyard, watching Merlin with sad blue eyes. "Are you well, Merlin? I sense that you are in a great deal of pain..."

"That's just how people feel when someone they love dies; you'll understand that when you're older. I'll be all right."

"Still, I do not wish to leave you."

"That's fine, but you'll have to stay outside - you're getting too big for the castle. You can come along when we bury my father in the morning, though."

"Will she fit in the crypts?" Gwen asked timidly, uncertain if it was considered rude to point out to a dragon when they were too large for a certain space.

"I'm not putting him in the crypts. My mother didn't want to be buried there - she always found life in the palace a bit stifling and said she hated the thought of anyone spending eternity surrounded by all that cold, unfeeling stone - so Father broke tradition for her and buried her outside the city, under a tree where they used to stop and rest their horses when they went out riding together. I'm going to put him there with her; we never discussed burial arrangements since we didn't expect...but I think he would have liked that."

Arthur patted him on the back, tactfully ignoring the way Merlin had choked up on the last words. "Yes," he said kindly, "I'm sure he would have."

###

Balinor's burial the following morning was a private event attended only by Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, and Aithusa. Three days later, after the requisite period of mourning during which custom decreed the throne would sit empty had passed, the white dragon joined the kingdom's nobility as they gathered to witness their new king's coronation (she could still make it through the large double doors leading into the throne room if she tucked her wings in, although she had to sit off to one side so as not to block others' view).

While everyone was impressed by the sight of her, Arthur and Gwen were the only ones brave enough to stand next to her, at least until Gwaine and Freya arrived. They quickly said hello and expressed their regrets over having missed the funeral - Gwaine had been with a group of knights who were sent to keep order in one of the outlying villages that had suffered damage from heavy rainfall and mudslides, and Freya had gone along to help treat the injured, though they had returned with all haste when they heard the news - before she voiced the question they were both itching to ask: "How is Merlin?"

"About as well as can be expected, I suppose," Arthur replied.

Gwaine frowned. "That bad, eh? Of course, I can't blame him, after seeing his father murdered in cold blood..." He lowered his voice. "Is it true that Mordred killed him?"

Gwen and Arthur both nodded, and the latter added, "In fairness, he was _trying_ to kill me, but obviously that wasn't much consolation to Merlin."

Freya started to say something about what a devastating blow that must have been, but her words were drowned out by the trumpets playing a fanfare. The audience fell silent, bowing their heads as Merlin entered - peeking up through their lashes at him, his friends were relieved to see that he appeared self-assured and composed, if not exactly happy - and strode to the front of the room, where old Theodosius stood waiting.

As Merlin knelt before him, the historian/genealogist held out the royal ceremonial sword which, with its ornate dragon's-head pommel, its hilt wrapped in gold wire, and its bejeweled scabbard, was more a work of art than a weapon (not to mention heavy enough that Will had to help hold it up) and instructed Merlin to place his right hand on the sheathed blade. "Do you swear to govern the people of this kingdom and its dominions according to the customs, statutes, and laws laid down by your predecessors?"

"I solemnly swear so to do," Merlin replied without hesitation.

"Will you faithfully execute your duties as a dragonlord, to ensure that our fellow creatures of magic continue to flourish and live in harmony with us?"

"I will."

Aithusa gave a low hum of satisfaction at that, though she couldn't understand why the part about the dragons wasn't first in the oaths of office.

"And do you swear, to the best of your ability, to show wisdom and mercy in your deeds and judgments?"

"I do."

Theodosius then motioned for Will to hand the sword off to a knight and turned to get the crown; Sefa, who Will had enlisted to help with his part in the ceremony, started forward to give it to him, only to trip halfway to the dais. Everyone held their breath as she came dangerously close to dropping the crown, but Will reached her side just in time to prevent that from happening. Theodosius still glowered at him as he handed it off, though, leaving Will with a sinking feeling that he and Sefa would be spending the rest of the week in the stocks.

"By the sacred laws vested in me," the old man intoned, "I crown you, Merlin Ambrosius, king of Dagon." Bending down, he placed the finely wrought golden crown on Merlin's head.

Merlin got to his feet and slowly stepped up to the throne, which looked strangely forlorn without Balinor sitting on it. He paused there for a second, letting the gravity of what he was about to do sink in, before turning around and lowering himself onto the velvet-cushioned seat. He heard the crowd cheering - he almost thought he could pick out Arthur, Gwen, Gwaine, and Freya's voices rising above the rest, at least until Aithusa's exuberant roar drowned them all out - but the sounds seemed to be coming from very far away, the smiling faces in front of him all blurring into one big shapeless mass.

He blinked away the familiar burning sensation building behind his eyes; he had shed quite enough tears in the last four days. Besides, this was all as it was meant to be - he and Arthur needed to assume their respective thrones before they could unite Albion, and now that they had he could feel that their destiny was closer than ever, almost within their grasp - yet at that moment he thought he would gladly give it all away, if only he could have his father back again.

###

The coronation feast was as delicious as anything the palace kitchens had ever turned out, but it might as well have been ashes and sawdust for all the interest Merlin showed in it; he spent most of the first two courses moving the food around on his plate, only taking a bite when Gwen or Freya prodded him, then left as soon as he decided everyone had drunk enough wine that they weren't likely to notice his absence.

Unfortunately, at least one person had remained sober; he'd barely made it out of the banquet hall when he heard Arthur calling after him. "Merlin, wait!"

He stopped and turned around, letting him catch up. "I'm not going back in there," he said flatly once Arthur was close enough that they could converse without shouting at one another.

"I wasn't going to ask you to, although we should probably talk about these new antisocial tendencies of yours...but right now we have something more important to discuss. Do you remember when we were trying to sort out which of the other kingdoms might be the most difficult to form alliances with, and I mentioned that Camelot and Nemeth have been quarreling over part of Gedref for over a century?"

"What of it?"

"Well, I've been thinking..." He deliberately left an opening there for Merlin to make some witty remark, but he didn't take the bait. Disappointed, Arthur went on. "As you know, the best way to settle a dispute like this...is through marriage."

That finally got a reaction from Merlin. "But you're engaged to Gwen. You wouldn't actually consider setting her aside for a political match, would you?"

"Of course not," Arthur said at once, sounding rather offended. "As a matter of fact, I was thinking of you; a union with Dagon would be far more valuable to Nemeth than a bit of land. That's why I met with Balinor the night he... Anyway, he seemed to think it was a good idea."

If Merlin had looked disapproving before, now he was outraged. "So you arranged all this behind my back? You had no right-!"

"You're making it sound much worse than it was," Arthur protested. "I only went to Balinor to see if he would support me in asking you to consider it. I never promised King Rodor anything on your behalf either, except that I would get you to meet with Princess Mithian when the delegation from Nemeth arrives to settle the matter of Gedref once and for all."

"There's no betrothal contract between me and this princess, then?" Merlin asked hopefully.

"No, but I don't think asking you to give her a chance is an unreasonable request. By all accounts, she's a lovely woman."

Merlin gave a noncommittal shrug. "I'm sure she is, but I don't understand why you couldn't come up with some other enticement to offer Rodor, if acquiring Gedref means that much to you."

"It's not about the land. I'm worried about you, Merlin. I know it's been hard, losing your father, but even before that, you've seemed...off. Guinevere thinks it's because you're the only one of our friends who doesn't have someone, so I think Mithian might be exactly what you need."

Arthur looked as if he expected Merlin to thank him for his thoughtfulness but, although Merlin appreciated that Arthur's heart was in the right place, he couldn't quite bring himself to feel grateful. He might not know why he had been so out of sorts lately, aside from the obvious reason, but somehow he didn't think a politically driven courtship with a girl he didn't even know was going to make him feel better.

 **Well, I hope you guys aren't too angry with me - I hated to do that to poor old Balinor, but I had to so Merlin could take over, and to expose Mordred's true colors to the rest of the cast since I didn't want to do one of those drawn-out 'traitor among us' plots that the show was so fond of. At least Balinor got to die heroically, which I hope softened the blow just a little.**


End file.
